The Brilliancy of Error
by readerofasaph
Summary: Four-part AkaKaga/MidoTaka romance novella. Part I: Kagami's been banned from matches due to failing his exams. Akashi decides to help. Part II: Takao participates in the most awkward double date ever. Part III: The trials and tribulations of being Midorima Shintarou. Part IV: Kagami teaches Akashi to cook, with help from Julia Child.
1. Part I: Akashi

"He is," said Midorima Shintarou, "an imbecile."

Shintarou's voice was animated and indignant and there was in his tone the audible sneer (there was no explanation for how Shintarou managed to sneer audibly, only it was undeniable that he achieved this) that he affected whenever he got himself into a fine rant. To anyone familiar with Shintarou's foibles, it was evident that he was about to launch into a lengthy diatribe.

Akashi stifled a sigh and switched his cellphone to loudspeaker. Perhaps he could multitask with a game of Minesweeper while Shintarou continued his stream of politically incorrect circumlocution.

"He has the mental capacity of a kindergartener, and the study habits of a baboon. Did you know," said Shintarou, "that he has used my lucky pencil so many times in the last twelve months that he has sharpened it down to nothing?

Akashi stared at his laptop screen and clicked on a tile. An angry red number 5 glared back at him. "Is this the rolling pencil you crafted in second-year in order to beat me in the final exams? The one that didn't work?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

"Yes," answered Shintarou finally. "Although I assure you that the Seirin team has more than vouched for its efficacy. _Not_," he emphasized, "that I am wasting more luck on that cretin. As far as I am concerned basic academic capacity is part of being a basketball player. Being banned from the Interhigh is the least he deserves."

Akashi right-clicked half a dozen times in rapid succession, staring at the resultant little circle of flags with satisfaction - until Shintarou's words registered in his mind.

"Shintarou," he said carefully, "is this Kagami Taiga you are complaining about?"

Again, it was some time before Shintarou responded. When he did, it was in a resigned tone: "Akashi, if you _must_ play computer games while holding phone conversations, at least put on a better performance of pretending to listen."

"There's no need for pretense; I heard everything you said." He finished clearing the minefield and checked his time. 79.82 seconds, very disappointing. "If Kagami-kun has been forbidden from official matches due to gross academic incompetence then it goes without saying that we should attempt to solve the problem."

He meant, naturally, that Shintarou should solve the problem. Preferably without phoning from Tokyo every night to complain about how herculean the task was.

Shintarou didn't seem to be getting the hint. "He is stupider than _Aomine_."

"That's quite impossible. Nobody is categorically stupider than Daiki." Shougo and Ryouta had certainly made spirited attempts to compete in that respect – and Koutarou made Akashi wonder at times – but still. "Shintarou. Are you trying to tell me that you don't feel your abilities are up to the challenge of tutoring Kagami-kun?"

Akashi's words finally produced the desired effect. One could almost hear the hiss of injured pride as Shintarou retorted: "That was certainly not what I meant to imply."

"Is that so? Very well then. I look forward to hearing of your eventual success."

Shintarou hung up after a barely muttered farewell, much to Akashi's relief. Finally, he could entertain himself with something more intellectually challenging. Go, for instance. Or maybe chess. Or shogi.

Definitely shogi.

#

The gravity of the situation was only made clear when Tetsuya called.

Akashi admired Kuroko Tetsuya for many reasons, but chief among them was Tetsuya's efficient use of words. In all the years they had played basketball together, Tetsuya had never failed to be direct, concise, to the point. Tetsuya only spoke when it was necessary. Shintarou could stand to learn a great deal from Tetsuya.

Tetsuya's penchant for meaningful silences was, however, occasionally awkward during phone conversations.

This particular pregnant pause had stretched on for more than ten seconds. Akashi still had no idea what Tetsuya was trying to communicate wordlessly across the phone line.

Perhaps Tetsuya would give up and start speaking in plain Japanese soon. In the meantime-

He typed in the URL for and began entering his username and password.

"Akashi-kun," said Tetsuya, "are you trying to play shogi while talking to me?"

Akashi hastily closed the window on his browser. "Not anymore, I'm not. Have you acquired telepathic powers since we last spoke?"

(An improbable theory, but Akashi didn't put _anything_ past Tetsuya.)

"No, but I can hear you typing on your laptop." Tetsuya sounded rather put out. Akashi felt mildly grateful that Rakuzan was a long way from Tokyo. "Anyway, please convince Midorima-kun to stop tutoring Kagami-kun. His hysterics are starting to frighten Nigou and yesterday he bought Kagami a plastic sarcophagus as a lucky item. It was very distressing for the first-years in the basketball club."

Typical Shintarou behaviour then, although Tetsuya's threshold for tolerating Shintarou had always been surprisingly low. "Have Kagami-kun's grades improved yet?"

"Not in the slightest bit."

"Then we can hardly stop at this point." Sitting out the Interhigh semifinals and finals last year had been frustrating. Akashi would rather not do that again.

"I don't think Midorima-kun is the best teacher for Kagami-kun. They both irritate each other too much."

Akashi considered everything he knew about Kagami Taiga, his single-mindedness and his ferocity, and conceded that Tetsuya was right. "Have other suitable tutors from your school been trialled already?"

"Including myself and most of the Seirin basketball team."

That was the trouble with delegation; it didn't work when all your subordinates were incompetent. How hard could it possibly be to train one high school student to pass his exams?

"I have a shogi tournament in Tokyo this weekend," said Akashi. "Tell Kagami-kun I'll be at his home on Saturday afternoon and that he should have his textbooks and school materials ready."

"Okay," said Tetsuya.

It was only after the phone call ended that it occurred to Akashi to be struck by the tone of Tetsuya's voice. It had been almost too neutral and expressionless, concealing a subtle underlying note of anticipatory glee, the way Tetsuya usually sounded when he was about to stick a melting popsicle down Daiki's shirt or punch Ryouta in the solar plexus.

Tetsuya must be about to inflict physical pain on Kagami-kun, Akashi decided finally, clicking his browser open again.

Yes, that was undoubtedly the most probable explanation.

#

He arrived at precisely 2'oclock on Saturday afternoon to an alarmingly full apartment.

Kagami answered when Akashi rang the doorbell. If possible, Kagami had grown even taller since the Winter Cup. He looked down at Akashi, his eyes expressionless, and said, "Come in."

Akashi entered the hallway and took in the gathering of bodies within. Tetsuya sat on the floor in front of the stereo, an open book in his lap; his presence had been expected, of course.

Shintarou was perched awkwardly on what appeared to be the apartment's sole couch: _his_ attendance was welcome; as it gave Akashi the opportunity to demonstrate to Shintarou the correct way to tutor a mentally deficient basketball player.

That left the other two people in the room: Aomine Daiki, lying on his back on the floorboards, and Takao Kazunari, the Shuutoku point guard that Shintarou had developed an odd fondness for. Akashi could not think of a good reason for either of them to be here.

"Would you like something to drink?" Kagami blurted. He was still standing just inside the doorway, right next to Akashi. Too close. Too tall. Hadn't anyone ever taught him it was rude to just _loom_ over people like that?

Slowly and deliberately, Akashi took three steps back and met Kagami's gaze. "Any blend of green tea you have will be fine."

"I only keep black tea." Kagami moved towards the kitchen area. "Milk or no milk?" he called out as he opened a cupboard door.

Unsurprising that Kagami's pantry was shamefully understocked. "No milk, two sugars," answered Akashi, before turning his attention towards the task of removing the excess people in the room.

"What brought you here, Daiki?" he asked, looking down his nose at the spot at where Daiki was lounging, head propped up by a stack of pillows.

"I'm here to laugh my ass off at Bakagami, of course." Daiki shrugged. "Couldn't pass up the chance. Also, he made us lunch. He cooks better than Ryou."

Akashi wasn't sure why he'd wasted time questioning Daiki's inane motives. "If that's the case, then go home."

"Yeah, yeah, I figured you'd say that," Daiki easily swung himself to his feet and ambled towards the exit, only pausing briefly as he passed by Akashi, saying in a low tone, "I shouldn't have to say anything, knowing you, but don't let that idiot get himself disqualified from official matches. The Tokyo playoffs will be meaningless without him, even if Tetsu's there."

Daiki had gained height since December too. Was it Akashi's fate to be surrounded constantly by genetic freaks? He gave Daiki a sidelong (and upwards) stare: "If you know that words are unnecessary, then don't bother with them."

But Daiki was already moving away. Without turning around he tossed them a casual wave as he exited. The door slammed shut behind him.

"Well that gets rid of one asshole, at least." Kagami had brought out a teapot and a saucer with a cup sitting upside-down on it and he stuck them on the coffee table. "Let me know if this isn't sweet enough."

'Thank you." Akashi had to concede that Kagami Taiga was a vast behavioural improvement on Daiki. "Before we begin, there's another unnecessary person present."

Everyone turned to look at where Takao was sitting on the couch next to Midorima.

To his credit, the sharp-eyed point guard appeared to have a perfect understanding of the situation. "I should be heading home anyway," he said, getting up. "Thanks for having me over, Kagami."

"I hope you're not under the misapprehension that I will be volunteering to take the cart back to school grounds," said Shintarou, adjusting his glasses with his bandaged hand.

"Wouldn't have dreamed of it. I'll cycle it back - but sorry, Shin-chan, you'll have to take public transport home."

"Hmph." But despite the disdain in his tone Shintarou continued to watch Takao until the latter had wandered out and disappeared from sight. It was almost a pity. Takao would have been a much less annoying spectator to the afternoon's proceedings than Shintarou was going to be.

Speaking of which. Quite enough time had been wasted on trivialities already.

Fortunately Tetsuya was already quietly at work. While Akashi had been evicting Kagami's more gratuitous guests, Tetsuya had moved the coffee table to the centre of the living area, so that there was space for the four of them to sit around it. He'd also gathered a stack of Kagami's recent test papers and spread them out in a fan-shape on on the floor: 27%, 32%, 6%, 15%... it was just as well Akashi had been through this with Daiki and Shougo at Teikou, else he would have been suffering a moment of pure disbelief that grades these low were possible.

"When is our deadline?" asked Akashi.

Kagami opened his mouth to speak, but Tetsuya beat him to it. "Kagami-kun is resitting his midterms in two weeks. He won't be playing in official matches until then, and if he doesn't pass them, he won't be allowed to play in official matches until after summer."

"I feel this situation could have been prevented with some foresight," Akashi said mildly. "I understand Kagami-kun had similar trouble last year."

"Well," said Tetsuya, "he didn't tell me he continued using Midorima-kun's pencil every time he was in danger of failing a subject. Which appears to have been at least once a fortnight."

They all stared at Kagami, who had taken up position at one end of the coffee table and was sitting there with the resigned air of a helpless lamb to the slaughter.

Akashi picked up the first of the exam papers: mathematics, covered in a frenzy of red ink. "I'm sure Kagami thoroughly regrets his actions." And if Kagami didn't yet, he certainly would by the time this was over. Akashi could have spent his weekend doing far more productive things. Like horse-riding. Or shogi.

He sat down next to Kagami (the height difference was thankfully less pronounced when they weren't standing) and picked up a fountain-pen that was lying next to his untouched teacup. "Let's begin."

#

By 2:15PM Akashi had ascertained four things:

Kagami did not know the first thing about calculus.

Nor did he understand even the most basic concepts of trigonometry.

Nor algebra.

Nor geometry.

Akashi was about to broach the subjects of multiplication tables and and long division, with a hollow feeling in his chest that felt very much like trepidation (which was nonsense, of course; Akashi never experienced emotions like fear), when he was compelled, for the sake of efficiency, to ask Shintarou if he was sure he couldn't part with another lucky pencil.

The look of crazed triumph in Shintarou's eyes would have been annoying if it didn't simply make Akashi feel very concerned for Shintarou's mental health. "I told you," Shintarou said. "_I told you_, Akashi. _Irredeemable imbecility_."

"Do you have another pencil, or don't you?" Akashi said. Shintarou was _so_ prone to getting distracted off the main point.

"I sold the other two , since they didn't prove as useful as I would have liked."

"You did very well in all your exams in junior high," replied Akashi, meaning _not as well as I did_.

Shintarou shot Akashi a withering look. Too bad Shintarou used his withering looks so often that the entire basketball club had grown immune to them at Teikou. "Anyway the rolling pencils were designed to help with multiple-choice questions, and all of Seirin's midterms are short-answer or essay this year."

Akashi picked up the next test paper - world history, and graffitied even more dramatically in bright red corrections than the previous one. "Perhaps this is for the best. Everyone has to learn proper study habits at some stage in their lives. I feel this is an excellent opportunity for you to accomplish this, Kagami Taiga."

Kagami just stared at Akashi uncomprehendingly. Well, well, this entire conversation was likely too much for his tiny brain to keep up with.

He looked at the first answer on the history paper, which informed him that Kagami apparently believed that Julius Caesar had been born in the Middle Ages.

Akashi reached for the teapot and poured himself a cup of sweetened black tea. It was going to be a long afternoon; one might as well take advantage of life's small comforts.

#

Tetsuya excused himself at quarter-past five, pleading irreversible exhaustion. Fair enough; between Daiki and Shintarou, to say nothing of Kagami Taiga, Tetsuya's day must have been entirely unpleasant.

They had spent the last three hours working on Kagami's basic Japanese literacy, since this appeared to be the major underlying factor for Kagami's dismal academic performance.

(The other major underlying factor was obviously Kagami's lack of innate intelligence, but that problem was entirely unmodifiable. Akashi had to work with whatever he had.)

"I can't take this anymore," Kagami announced, within ten minutes of Tetsuya leaving. "I'm going to make dinner."

"We've only covered twenty-five kanji," Akashi objected. This was why he hated being called in to tutor people; it was always such a _slow_ process.

"Can't study when I'm hungry." Kagami had already opened the fridge. "You allergic to anything?"

Akashi blinked. "Are you planning to cook for both of us as well?" He glanced at Shintarou, who was busy correcting Kagami's scrawled and unattractive kanji.

"I always cook extra anyway." Kagami pulled an assortment of vegetables out of the crisper.

"I don't like eating carrots," said Shintarou primly.

"I didn't ask if there was anything you didn't like eating, asshole." Kagami made a grimace at Shintarou and then, glancing at Akashi, seemed to catch himself. "Anyway dinner's stir-fry whatever I have left. Go out and get takeaway if you have any objections."

"...We'll stay," said Akashi after a moment's consideration. It would give him time to draw up a new study timetable for Kagami. Shintarou's original schedule had been completely unrealistic; it was plain that Kagami did not have the intellectual stamina for five-hour study sessions.

Perhaps regularly scheduled breaks for food and basketball, then-

He drew up the revised timetable with pencil and ruler in the back of Kagami's chemistry notebook. (Given that the current contents of said notebook mostly comprised doodles of basketball hoops and free throw lanes, plus numerous phrases to the effect of 'No #1 in Japan!' and 'Defeat the Generation of Miracles! Again!' scribbled in English, with only the rare - and wholly incorrect - attempt at balancing oxidation-reduction reactions written in its pages, Akashi felt that his additions didn't constitute unfair use of Kagami's school materials.)

Whatever Kagami was cooking certainly smelled amazing.

The flavours of ginger and garlic-flavoured oil wafted through the apartment. accompanied by the hiss of Kagami's wok as the gas ring flared to life. The extractor fan whirred above the stove.

It was fascinating to watch. Kagami seemed so feeble-minded when it came to academics that it was surprising to see him perform competently what Shintarou and Momoi had never succeeded at despite numerous attempts.

Dinner when served, tasted as good as it smelled. Even Shintarou ate the carrots that ended up in his rice bowl. Akashi asked for seconds.

Kagami had thirds. And fourths, and fifths, and somehow still managed to finish eating before either Akashi or Shintarou did, gathering up the pots and pans and beginning to wash up.

Akashi brought his empty bowl over to the sink when he had finished. "Let me help with that."

Kagami shrugged. "I'm nearly done anyway, and there's no need to dry, I can just put them on the dish rack. Shouldn't you be planning the next kanji for me to memorise?"

He looked down at Akashi (still too tall and too close, although the proximity was Akashi's fault this time) with an undecipherable expression. In many ways Akashi hadn't yet got the measure of Kagami Taiga. Comparing him to Daiki or Atsushi or Ryouta was less helpful than might have been expected. "The Miracle who is not a Miracle," Daiki had described him.

The one thing Akashi did know for sure was that however the remainder of their high school years transpired - the battles, the exchange of winning and losing that they'd all committed to, the endless learning and growing that was basketball - it would be meaningless if Kagami Taiga wasn't part of them.

Two hundred jōyō kanji to go, and that was before they started in on literature. History. _Physics_. Akashi would have to draw up a revised timetable for himself as well. He did not foresee a lot of shogi or horse-riding in his immediate future.

They resumed the task of revision. Even Shintarou had mellowed in the aftermath of the home-cooked meal, and his acerbic speculations on the state of Kagami's frontal lobes were fewer and far between, replaced only by the occasional quiet grumble about Kagami's penmanship.

They managed another twenty-five kanji by half past eight, which Akashi conceded was quite the feat - for ordinary human intellects, at least; Akashi could have done it in half the time.

"I should go home," said Shintarou. "Are you still staying at my place tonight, Akashi?"

That had indeed been the plan, although Akashi felt reluctant to terminate the study session at this point. Eight-thirty PM seemed early to be calling it a day, considering how much remained to be done.

"You could stay here tonight," Kagami offered. "There's a spare bedroom."

It was probably the best option; Akashi had considered the possibility when planning his trip to Tokyo, but had felt it would be presumptuous to ask Kagami for accommodation. He was surprised that Kagami had extended the invitation.

"I would be grateful for that," he answered, inclining his head.

"I'll get going, then." Shintarou looked relieved at not having to host Akashi. Akashi would have to interrogate him about that at some later point. "What time should I come in the morning?"

"There's no need." Shintarou had been more hindrance than help anyway, even if he did have far more patience for correcting Kagami's copious errors of stroke order than Akashi did. "I'll need you to keep helping Tetsuya with Kagami-kun's study sessions when I'm back in Kyoto, however. Kagami-kun, take a fifteen-minute break."

Shintarou left. Kagami heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed back on the floor, putting on his headphones (attached to the nearby stereo) and shutting his eyes.

Akashi took this opportunity to to download revision mp3s onto Kagami's laptop. The scientific evidence for sleep-learning was admittedly scanty, but Kagami Taiga was going to need every advantage he could get.

Hopefully Shintarou kept up buying lucky items for Leos.

#

He awoke the next morning to the smell of breakfast, a riot of flavours drifting through the air to compete for his attention: honey, coffee, bacon, butter.

Inside the kitchen he found enough food to feed an entire basketball team. At least a dozen buttermilk pancakes, heaped in a tower on a plate, accompanied by a stack of assorted berries and a small jug of maple syrup. Scrambled eggs, an entire salad bowl crammed full of them, soft and yellow and perfectly creamy. Hash browns. Bacon strips. Mushrooms and tomatoes and sausages.

"There's miso soup, if you want it," Kagami said, when he noticed Akashi. He nodded at a stockpot on the stove. "Also natto, and there's still some rice from last night."

It took Akashi a couple of moments to process that Kagami apparently intended for the two of them to consume all the food spread out on the kitchen counter. Had even Atsushi been this horrifically gluttonous on his hungriest days?

Somehow they ended up spending the entire morning eating while they revised. Kagami managed to remember most of the kanji they'd covered yesterday, which was almost impressive considering his subpar intelligence. (Not as impressive as the speed at which toast and bacon disappeared into his stomach, but nevertheless.)

It was a shame that even with the encouraging progress Kagami was making under Akashi's tutelage, it was not nearly going to be enough.

Akashi had been aware of that possibility, had been planning for it, but he hadn't anticipated Kagami broaching the topic first - which Kagami did at noon, scoffing down the last of the pancakes and putting his ballpoint pen down on the coffee table before saying, "You don't think I'm going to make it, do you?"

It wasn't like Kagami to be perceptive. Akashi was surprised. "Why do you say that?"

"Last year, when you were playing against Midorima. You had this look in your eyes that was like, 'Nice try, but it's not going to get you anywhere.' It's the same look you've got on your face now."

Akashi considered how much to tell Kagami. In his experience top-tier basketball players always functioned best when you didn't explain too much to them. "You won't pass your resits if you continue at your current trajectory, that's true."

Instead of the belligerent and incoherent noise of protest that Akashi had expected, Kagami went, "Oh."

And looked down at the floor between them, and did not say anything further, and in short, appeared utterly lacking in the bullheaded confidence that Akashi thought of as signature Kagami Taiga.

Akashi was not used to asking questions so often. Perhaps, to be more accurate, he was not used to being this curious about a person. "What do you plan to do?"

Kagami frowned downwards, a little longer, before finally lifting his gaze to meet Akashi's eyes. "It's not basketball."

"Meaning it doesn't matter if you fail?"

"That's not what I said-"

"Or is the Generation of Miracles no longer worth playing against now that you've won against us?"

Kagami said, "You are all such _dickheads_."

Coarse language, the usual resort of the simple-minded and the verbally challenged. But okay, Akashi wasn't wholly undeserving of the epithet. He'd been deliberately provoking Kagami Taiga. He seemed to do that every occasion the two of them met. Each time the taller boy had remained surprisingly calm, with only a bare hint of the intensity and fury that had trapped Akashi's focus as they faced each other on the court.

He said: "You'll pass your exams."

Kagami frowned again, trying to make sense of their conversation. "You said-"

"I said, at your current trajectory. We have hundreds of opportunities to change that trajectory. School is a much easier game to win at than basketball." Akashi began gathering his things. "I'll call you when I get back to Kyoto. You should take another break now, then spend the evening learning more kanji."

"Right," said Kagami.

He saw Akashi to the door, which naturally afforded another opportunity for Akashi to feel vertically challenged as they stared at each other. If their acquaintance was going to continue Akashi would have to sit Kagami down sometime and give him the lecture about not _looming_.

"I suppose I should say thank you." Kagami was watching Akashi with a guarded (and not particularly grateful, although it wasn't exactly ungrateful either) look.

Akashi raised a brow. "Thank me by making it to the Interhigh."

He took the taxi to the train station. Shortly after boarding the Shinkansen he started to notice the indigestion. Kagami was entirely to blame; no high school student ought to be able to cook that well. Akashi had drunk most of that pot of miso soup.

He spent the train ride planning and predicting, and using his cellphone to email Tetsuya and Momoi Satsuki.

He did not, even for one moment, think about shougi.

#

Tetsuya phoned shortly after Akashi arrived home.

"I have the information you need," he told Akashi.

"That was quick," commented Akashi.

"Well," said Tetsuya, "I've been collecting it for three weeks."

Tetsuya was always so reassuringly in-tune with Akashi's thoughts. "You wouldn't consider a transfer to Rakuzan, would you?" he said wistfully. Reo was tolerable enough company, but Eikichi and Koutarou were a different breed altogether, and when all was said and done, none of them were Kuroko Tetsuya.

"Not even if you paid me," said Tetsuya. "I sent Momoi-san the data as well. If she's as fast as she usually is, we should have the results by tomorrow."

Momoi surpassed their expectations. The graph and the predictions arrived in Akashi's Inbox a mere three hours later. (Akashi was asleep by then, after consuming a large cocktail of antacids for dinner, and only managed to peruse the attachments the next morning before school, while eating a simple, nutritionally balanced, and rather bland breakfast.)

He admired the excellence of her analysis. She'd appended a quick note: _Dai-chan cranky about Kagamin not going to Interhigh. Don't expect me to always carry out your instructions this quickly, Akashi-kun!_

Really, Momoi had grown mouthy since the Teikou days. All of them had, even Shintarou, with the exception of Daiki, who had been unruly and insubordinate right from the beginning.

He'd have to retrain them all if he were ever to captain them again.

Although being their opponent was a great deal more fun than being their captain.

#

"I just sent you the contents of your makeup exams, along with model answers written by myself." Akashi did not like Skype. The webcam video of his face remained fuzzy despite his best attempts to adjust it and he disliked how, in order to look at the camera, he had to look away from everything else on the laptop screen.

Kagami was used to Skype apparently, thanks to his parents still living in the United States. Akashi watched the furrow of concentration on the other boy's brow as he checked his email, opened the attached model papers, and then scowled at the camera. "What did you do, bribe my teachers?"

"Nothing as boring as that. I had Tetsuya collect information on the past midterms and makeup exam papers produced by your school, as well as detailed psychological profiles on each of your teachers. Then I had Momoi-san collate the data."

"So this is basically your best guess at what questions are going to be on the tests."

"This is what I _know_ will be on your tests." Grown-ups were busy and grown-ups were predictable. Predicting exams (and acing them) was a game Akashi had been playing since he'd been in kindergarten. He added, "We don't have time to correct the deficiencies in your education in the next twelve days. That will have to be done afterwards."

"Afterwards?" Kagami looked at Akashi with an expression of slowly dawning realisation and horror. "You don't mean-"

"There is no point in going through this rigmarole every year. Shintarou and I will endeavour to get you to a standard where you are at least not constantly at risk of your school pulling you out of extracurricular activities."

He observed coolly as the emotions flickered across Kagami's face: alarm, dismay, protest, indignation, and finally, resignation. "Okay."

Kagami _was_ learning.

"Your job is to spent the next twelve days memorising what I've just sent," said Akashi. It had taken Akashi quite some effort to come up with essay answers pedestrian enough that the teachers would believe they had sprung from Kagami's brain. Everything Akashi had to say on Akutagawa Ryunosuke's short stories had seemed far too insightful to be a thought originating in Kagami's sluggish neural synapses. "I'll expect daily updates."

"I can do that."

"Get started, then." Akashi terminated the call. Had it really been more than forty-eight hours since he'd last played shougi?

Really, Kagami Taiga was more work than Daiki had ever been, and that was saying something.

#

Due to the vagaries of the ex-Teikou regular grapevine, it was Ryouta who told Akashi the news first. _Kagamicchi passed his resits! He'll be playing against Midorimacchi next week._

Naturally there was nothing surprising about this event. The result was precisely as Akashi had expected.

Still, Akashi was pleased to hear it.

#

Kagami's email arrived a few hours later. _See you at the Interhigh,_ it said. _Seirin's planning to wipe the floor with Rakuzan again._

Akashi regarded his cellphone screen with annoyance. Did he have to personally visit Tokyo again and make Kagami fall down a few dozen more times to make the point?

In the end he settled for a terse reply: _You can try, Kagami Taiga_.

After thinking about it for a minute, he sent another message. _I'll be waiting._

**End Part 1.**.


	2. Part II: Takao

**Part II: Takao**

Nakatani-sensei's idea of an adequate practice session is usually 'train until you're about to die, then do it all over again, twice more', which is why Takao is surprised when, after a grueling Interhigh quarterfinal game against Senshinkan, the coach taps his chin thoughtfully and announces in a mild voice, "Okay, you can have the afternoon off."

Midorima's already sitting on a bench, showered and changed and methodically winding tape around his fingers, as if Oha Asa told him in advance there'd be no extra training today. (More likely Midorima just decided he didn't need any further practice, Nakatani-sensei or no Nakatani-sensei, and while Midorima's bad habits have improved vastly over the last sixteen mon ths, he's still enough of a prima donna that he sometimes uses up all his selfish requests in one go. Skipping extra practice is definitely a three-request item.)

The team starts preparing to go their separate ways. Takao hits the shower stall and gets dressed, then asks: "Got any plans for today, Shin-chan?" By which he means, can I join in?

In response Midorima pulls out his cellphone from a side pocket of his satchel and stares at its small screen with the expression of one who has resigned himself to certain torture. "Unfortunately, yes."

Interesting. There's not really many people or circumstances out there that can make Shin-chan do what he doesn't want to do, epic tsun-tsun facade notwithstanding. "Souvenir shopping for your mum? Visiting overbearing Kyoto relatives?"

"Tutoring basketball idiots in history," Midorima stands, picks up his satchel with his right hand, and then pauses. "Do you want to come along?"

Takao quells the initial _Hurrah today's not a Shin-chan shoots me down endlessly day_ reaction and drums up the necessary suspicion. "Okay, now I'm weirded out. Since when do you actually invite me to anything?"

Even as he asks the questions his mind supplies the answers: When Shin-chan goes shopping and need someone to help carry his bags. When Shin-chan feels like being chauffeured around in a rickshaw. When Shin-chan needs a _servant_, in other words – or perhaps more accurately, when Shin-chan can find an excuse for having Takao around that makes sense to Shin-chan's convoluted mind, which usually involves Takao being necessary for performing tasks of menial labour.

Takao's classmates like to commiserate with him over the difficulties of being Midorima's friend. Takao thinks it'd be far harder actually being Midorima Shintarou.

Apparently today is a particularly hard day to be Midorima Shintarou.

"Since I needed assistance in not being driven to homicide." Midorima answers, as they exit the brand-new and state-of-the-art Kyoto sports complex that's being used as this year's Interhigh venue.

"Hey, hey, Kagami's a nice guy." Admittedly Kagami is exactly the sort of person Shin-chan can't stand, but about ninety-percent of all humanity happen to be exactly the sort of people Shin-chan can't stand. "Trust me, Shin-chan, you don't want to kill him."

"Who said anything about Kagami?" grumbles Midorima. Takao looks across at him, a little confused, but Midorima is using his right hand to adjust his glasses and his face is already shifting from excessive irritation to being pensive, calculating, deep in thought. "Sagittarius' ranking on Oha Asa was eleven out of twelve this morning. Cancers were ranked second. Judging by all available data, it _should_ be possible to snap Akashi's neck barehandedly at some point today."

Well, that's an auspicious start to their one afternoon off in Kyoto.

#

Getting to their initial destination involves walking, a subway ride, and walking several blocks more, which gives Takao time to patiently coax a situation update out of Midorima. The essential facts of the matter are easily enough elicited. Kagami: still stupid. Akashi: still a prat. (An always victorious, always correct, always superior prat. It's impressive how all of Shin-chan's voluminous vitriol on Akashi Seijuurou only serves to make the Rakuzan captain sound like the only perfect human being on Planet Earth.)

The details are a little harder to clarify. Kagami's academic status: still teetering on a knife's edge. The necessity of devoting time to tutoring Kagami right in the middle of the Interhigh tournament – highly disputable, but related to Akashi's hypothesis that that Kagami might learn better by viewing historical sites rather than hearing or reading about them.

"So in other words, you're spending the afternoon sightseeing," concludes Takao.

Midorima lets out a little sigh of exasperation. "Terming the activity _sightseeing_ implies that the experience will be enjoyable."

"Hey, it might be fun. It's been a while since my family took me to do the whole Kyoto thing." And it's been well, _never_ since Takao last got to see the captain and vice-captain of the Generation of Miracles do anything that could be remotely construed as 'hanging out together'. The day promises to be highly entertaining for Takao, if a little risky for his physical well-being.

His opinion of the situation doesn't really change as they enter a small, tucked-away restaurant on a hectic commercial street, are greeted by a pair of exquisitely polite waitstaff in elegant kimonos, and are then ushered to a table where Akashi Seijuurou and Kagami Taiga are sitting looking at each other.

Amid an atmosphere of total, all-encompassing, and awkward gloom.

Ah, right. So today was the Interhigh quarterfinals. In which Shuutoku defeated Senshinkan and Rakuzan...pulled a 62-49 victory over Seirin.

Akashi notices their arrival first, his eyes filled with palpable relief as he greets them. "Shintarou. Takao Kazunari. A pleasure to see you both again."

For someone who's just managed to get revenge on the team that gave him the first official loss of his life (to hear Shin-chan tell it, more like Akashi's first loss at anything _ever_), Akashi doesn't look all that happy. Then again, it's a little difficult keeping one's spirits up when Kagami is right there, staring intensely at the tabletop while emanating an air of rage and devastation. He manages to glance up momentarily long enough to mumble out greetings to Midorima and Takao, but by the time they're all seated he's gone back to ignoring everything again.

Akashi continues to sit silently for a while, wearing the pensive and shuttered look that appears to be his facial expression of choice whenever he's not offering either to kill people or gouge his own eyes out. Then, after the waiters have have taken their lunch orders and collected the menus. he releases a sigh:

"As much as I hate to admit it, this is due to lack of foresight on my part. We're cancelling our plans for today."

This jolts Kagami out of his stupor. "What? No."

Akashi ignores his protest. "While I thought this was a good opportunity, you're not going to learn anything while you're in this state. You might as well go home and mope to your satisfaction."

"I'll. Be. Fine. It's not like I'm gonna get another chance anytime soon, right?"

There's something veiled in Kagami's eyes as he looks at Akashi, and Takao suddenly has the feeling Kagami doesn't mean 'Another chance to appreciate the architectural stamp Toyotomi Hideyoshi left upon the city of Kyoto', but it's not completely obvious what the subtext of this conversation's about.

Judging by Akashi's response, he doesn't seem to have noticed anything unusual in Kagami's body language. "Well, it's rare for you to show anything resembling active interest in Japanese history. I suppose we can go ahead."

Midorima clears his throat. "Would it help console you, Kagami, to know that after last year's Winter Cup, Akashi refused to answer emails for two months?"

"Shintarou," says Akashi warningly.

Midorima gives a graceful shrug and takes a sip of water from his glass. "I still remember your housekeeper's phone call in February, telling me that you were skipping meals and wasting away and locking yourself up in the study to brood over a shougi board. She asked me to inform her if I happened to find out which shameless hussy had broken your heart."

"Shintarou," Akashi says again, and this time it's not a warning, it's a death threat. But it's cut short by Kagami looking puzzled at Akashi, and asking:

"Were you really that upset?"

"I was not _upset_, I was-" Akashi breaks off mid-sentence, appears to weigh up his options, and finally says, flatly, "Yes, I was."

"But you still made sure I wasn't disqualified from the Interhigh this year."

"There's no purpose in achieving victory over an inferior opponent," Akashi answers. For a moment there passes between him and Kagami a flash of genuine mutual understanding.

"Basketball's always better when there's someone out there strong enough to beat you," Kagami agrees, nodding.

The waiters arrive with their food bare seconds later, giving Kagami the final word on that conversation.

#

Kagami eats and eats and eats, which gives Akashi and Midorima time to talk (or rather, incite each other to increasingly intense thoughts of murder), and gives Takao time to observe their little tableau unfold with fascination.

Takao thinks of himself as a pretty observant guy, but he'd be the first to admit that there's a number of things about the Generation of Miracles he's totally failed to pick up on, despite what should have been ample opportunities to watch Teikou's former dream team in action.

Take for instance that one time he played Teikou in middle school, arguably the most pivotal game of his life prior to attending Shuutoku. By all accounts Takao should remember what it was like, facing the strongest junior high basketball team in the nation's history. Should recall Aomine Daiki's impossible street ball, Murasakibara Atsushi's looming figure below the hoop, Kise Ryouta's exquisite cheekbones and flashy copycatting.

Reliable sources attest that Akashi Seijuurou was there, point guard to Takao's point guard, and while Akashi isn't exactly a showoff on the court, it stands to reason that Takao should remember..._something_, at least.

Instead, the only memory he can summon of that match is Shin-chan's three-pointers, widening the score gap again and again and again, the ball spinning heavy and precise in the air as Shin-chan turned his back, deliberate and disdainful, as if no one on Takao's team was worth his time – and they weren't. There are very few people in Japan who are worth Shin-chan's time in basketball. It takes every sweat-drenched, exhausting minute of extra training Takao puts in to feel worthy of standing next to Shin-chan on a court.

(Takao does not remember Kuroko Tetsuya either, but there at least he shares his forgetfulness with virtually every junior high basketball player in Japan.)

In any case Takao now has two members of the Generation of Miracles eating lunch in front of him, apparently absorbed in in a riveting argument with each other, and Takao has prime opportunity to watch them and mentally take notes, unencumbered by distracting thoughts like _We are so screwed_ and _I've never lost this badly before_ and _Are basketballs even supposed to do that_.

It takes Takao a full five minutes to realise that Akashi and Midorima are arguing about...mathematics.

(Meanwhile, Kagami finishes his second bowl of soba and orders another two.)

Akashi, evidently too well-bred to talk and eat at the same time, has barely managed a bite of his bento set. "And even if we did somehow establish that Leibniz invented calculus independently of Newton – a proposition which our discussion has shown to be dubious – I scarcely see how history would have been different if the man had never been born. Really, Shintarou, I have never understood your deep-seated psychological tendency to identify with underdogs."

Midorima's lunch remains equally untouched. "Whatever your experiences with the elementary school debating club taught you, Akashi, merely saying that a statement is dubious in a loud and skeptical tone does not _actually make it untrue_. Also, before you jump to conclusions about Leibniz being an underdog, I'd suggest you consider whether you've ever seen a high school mathematics textbook that employs Newton's fluxional notation."

(Kagami slurps down half of his third bowl and washes it down with a cup of genmaicha. Takao follows his wise example of eating and looking preoccupied and avoiding participation in the conversation, albeit at a much slower rate of chew and swallow.)

"I will grant you that Leibniz developed a much more aesthetically pleasing and useful method of notating calculus than Newton did." Akashi drinks his tea. It's a quick and elegant set of movements: raising the cup to his lips, sip and swallow barely visible, and then lowering it to the table before he continues to speak: "Of course, most _objective_ parties would be unanimous in judging that notation, however beautiful and efficient, does begin to look like a paltry and even risible achievement in comparison with the Newtonian laws of motion."

"As I recall," Midorima retorts, "the Newtonian laws eventually started to look fairly risible themselves. Sometime about 1905, I believe."

Akashi calmly takes up his chopsticks and picks up a piece of grilled eggplant. Instead of consuming it, however, he reaches out and places it in the middle of Kagami's bowl, just as the taller boy pauses to drink a fifth cup of genmaicha.

"Taiga, stop eating that soba and help yourself to some vegetables. This is the sixth meal at which I've seen you consume upwards of a dozen carbohydrate servings at a single sitting. At the rate you're going you'll end up with early-onset Type 2 diabetes."

Takao catches himself scrutinising Akashi's straight, perfect nose, and wondering how many people have dreamed of breaking it in the past.

(To be fair he's wondered the same thing about Shin-chan at least a dozen times, but Shin-chan is 195 cm tall and 79 kilograms and his nose is a lot harder to reach for the average high schooler.)

Kagami eats nothing but fruits, vegetables, and protein for the rest of lunchtime.

#

By the time they make it to the Imperial Park, Akashi and Midorima have finally desisted from insulting each other long enough to start in on the history lessons.

"In which year did the imperial capital move from Nara to Heian-kyo?" asks Midorima, as they cross over an arched stone bridge. The afternoon air is warm, sweet with the scent of pine needles. It's also unbearably humid. Another hour of this and they'll all be sweating like pigs.

"794," Kagami replies wearily.

Midorima blinks, as if in disbelief that Kagami managed the correct answer. "And the year the Kamakura shogunate was established?"

"1192."

Midorima looks at the lucky item he's holding between the thumb and index finger of his left hand – a brilliantly hued peacock feather - and then looks at Kagami with some astonishment. "Akashi, he's not nearly as remedial as you led me to believe."

Akashi is walking a little further ahead of the three them: slowly, contemplatively and without even a hint of being bothered by the heat. "Taiga, outline for me the major events of the Kenmu Restoration, and give three primary reasons for its ultimate failure."

They continue to make their way through the greenery of the pines for another two minutes in dead silence. Finally, they come to a fork in the garden path, and Akashi pauses, turns to Midorima. "As you can see," he says acerbically, "he's still not doing terribly well with questions that require actual thinking."

Midorima rolls his eyes. "This is Kagami we're talking about. What were you expecting, Akashi, a _miracle_?"

Akashi says: "Taiga, are you about to lose your temper?"

"Yeah, kind of," says Kagami, his tone surprisingly subdued. Kagami has, in fact, been radiating such intense frustration for the last sixty seconds that Takao's discreetly moved to stand on the _other_ side of Shin-chan. No sense being in the direct line of fire when Kagami takes it out on something or someone.

"Please don't." Akashi casts a smile upwards.

It's not at all a smile like Shin-chan's – the smile Takao has only seen a bare handful of times, reluctant and unpracticed and completely sweet. Akashi smiles like he expects the gesture to stop Kagami's anger dead in its tracks.

It does.

#

Akashi and Kagami wander off on their own shortly after the four of them arrive at Nijo Castle, which is largely a relief since at the point the two of them disappear down a long corridor, Akashi is making Kagami recite the names of the Tokugawa shoguns from memory. In order. With birth dates, years of office, and significant achievements of their reigns.

"I'm feeling pretty sorry for Kagami," Takao remarks, once he and Midorima are by themselves again. Well. To be more truthful, he feels sorry for Kagami, but also a little curious that Seirin's ace is putting himself through this. Voluntarily. Something's not quite clicking here.

"Akashi did always have trouble with realistic expectations," Midorima says tartly. "It's the unfortunate side-effect of years of constantly demanding the ridiculous of people around him and, against all odds, consistently having those demands met."

He stands in the middle of the hallway and folds his arms across his chest, at least a head taller than the steady stream of tourists moving past and around them, looking ruffled and exasperated and beautiful and completely _Shin-chan_. And Takao can't help it, he's been holding back most of the afternoon (well, that and only people with subzero survival instincts would think to actually _laugh_ at Akashi in his presence): he lets out a snicker.

This naturally serves to make Midorima look even more irritated. "Takao, I don't see what is so humorous about this situation."

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, honest." The skepticism in Shin-chan's face deepens, probably rightly so – part of Takao _is_, and probably always will be, deeply amused by Shin-chan. But only part of him. "You gotta admit though, you're not so great with realistic expectations yourself sometimes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Midorima looks down his nose at Takao. "My suggestion last week that the first-years spend two hours a day working on their three-pointers was an entirely rational and reasonable proposal. They certainly could use the practice."

For a moment, Takao stops short. He's had nearly one and a half years to learn how to decipher Shin-chan's body language and facial expressions now, and he flatters himself he can do it better than just about anyone else on the planet (outside maybe Shin-chan's own family), but did he really...is what he just heard...

"Did you just make a _joke_?" When Midorima responds to the question by flushing slightly and turning to walk further along the hallway, Takao follows after with a certain glee. "That's unfair, Shin-chan, you should give me advance warning when you decide to act out of character. I didn't get a chance to video record that on my phone."

"Hmph. It would have made a dull and pointless video recording," Midorima replies, as they fall into step alongside each other, the floorboards sounding beneath their feet.

They pass from one room to another, no longer governed by the need to cram as much historical knowledge as possible into Kagami Taiga's head. Shin-chan seems to be enjoying himself, studying the sliding door paintings and perusing the brochure they were given at the ticket office and mentioning the occasional piece of historical trivia, pulled from the endless stockpile of knowledge Shin-chan keeps in his head.

At one point Midorima says, "Thanks for coming with me this afternoon."

First actual invitations from Shin-chan, then explicit gratitude? Takao briefly regrets not listening to Oha Asa this morning. Perhaps Scorpios are having stupendously good luck today. "Hey, I was glad to. I'm always glad to meet your friends."

"The Generation of Miracles, you mean?"

"_Your_ friends," Takao repeats, and watches Shin-chan to see if he understands even a little, even though he won't, because Shin-chan is dense just like that.

Midorima frowns down at him. "Akashi would not call me his friend."

In some ways Akashi Seijuurou is even denser than Shin-chan is in, as far as Takao can tell. "But he still invited you here today."

Midorima stares out into the distance, then turns back to glance at Takao. "He is...better than he was. Since the Winter Cup. But not what he used to be."

To the casual listener, his voice wouldn't sound regretful at all. To Takao – well, it does. Just a little bit. Shin-chan never talks about missing Teikou, about missing his teammates, his friends, even though after all this time he's _still_ making Takao transport him to Seirin-Kaijou practice matches, still secretly showing up to spectate Touou games in unfashionable sunglasses and wearing hats pulled over his forehead.

Takao knows that Shin-chan doesn't truly miss Teikou. He belongs to Shuutoku now, both of them do. But Akashi is something of an unanswered question. Takao's always felt competitive about Kuroko Tetsuya – that quiet ordinary boy for whom Shin-chan offers respect without hesitation, who holds his own on the court against taller and faster and even smarter opponents. Akashi, however, doesn't invoke in Takao any sense of rivalry.

What he does provoke in Takao is a sense of jealousy. Mostly when Shin-chan is looking at Akashi.

They've made their way out of the outer palace and are just heading towards the inner palace when they spot Akashi and Kagami again, determinedly making their way across a rock garden towards Midorima and Takao.

Akashi arrives first. "Shintarou, do you have any recollection of where the restrooms are in this place?"

"You said you'd been here three times before," grumbles Kagami, coming up behind Akashi. "Shouldn't you at least know where the toilets are?"

"I'm not in the habit of drinking eleven cups of tea at lunchtime," Akashi says acridly. He looks meaningfully at the guide map in Midorima's hand. "Shintarou?"

They eventually find the rest area, the three of them sitting at a table to wait for Kagami, who's disappeared into the men's restroom.

"I recall that you declined a guide map when we bought our tickets, saying that you knew Nijo Castle _perfectly_," Midorima says.

"I try not to use public toilets." Akashi says, looking put out.

Midorima doesn't answer with anything but pointed silence, and for a little while no one at the table speaks. Midorima studies his peacock feather; Akashi looks out at the castle gardens, his eyes dreamy and distant.

Then Midorima speaks: "I'm surprised you're taking so much effort with Kagami. It's not like you to get personally involved."

"He and Tetsuya defeated me," Akashi replies coldly. "If you are to be surprised by anything, then be surprised by that."

"I was surprised." Midorima looks down at Akashi. "Less surprised than you, perhaps."

Akashi doesn't answer, and instead reaches out to take Midorima's guide map out of his hands. He stares at it for some disinterested moments before his gaze slides over to Kagami, who has come out from the bathroom and is moving through the throng of visitors to rejoin them.

They're all tired by the time they make it to the gardens of the inner palace. All of them played in matches today, against difficult opponents, and with a lot at stake; the sunlight's still beating down on them, the air isn't getting any cooler, and the constant flow of tourists is busy and crowded and distracting. Akashi and Midorima aren't even bothering to tutor Kagami anymore, they've just fallen into talking to each other in low voices, cycling through topics related and unrelated to Tokugawa Period history: chess, Sei Shonagon, JBL games (Kagami and Takao perk up at the mention of basketball, then lose interest again when Akashi redirects the conversation to classical music), Stravinsky, the Meiji era, shougi.

Really, it's like Takao and Kagami aren't even _there_.

Well, it's not as if Shin-chan's bad habits ever change. Gotta make the best of it.

"How are things going at Seirin lately?" Takao asks.

It's only when Kagami doesn't answer that Takao looks up, follows the direction of Kagami's gaze, to where Akashi and Midorima are photographing some ginkgo trees, specifically to Akashi's face, which is a little softer and more open than usual as he takes a shot of Midorima. Then Takao looks back, recognising with a start the emotion in Kagami's eyes.

It's an expression Takao identifies immediately only because he's worn it himself at least a couple dozen times in the last six months.

That feeling of wanting something, and knowing that you may never get it. Takao would feel genuinely sorry for Kagami Taiga, if he weren't mostly feeling sorry for himself.

Midorima says: "Takao."

Takao blinks at the sound of Shin-chan's voice. Midorima's holding up his camera phone. "Do you want a picture of yourself?"

This seems like such an unusually polite and thoughtful thing for Shin-chan to think of that for a moment Takao is caught for words. "Uhh, sure. I guess."

"After that, I'd like to get a few shots with all of us in them," says Akashi. "Shintarou, you'll have to go in the middle, you're far too tall."

#

Some thirty-odd photographs later, mostly taken with Kagami's phone (their best quality camera), Akashi finally declares the excursion at an end.

"All of us have to get up early tomorrow," he says. "We'll continue another day."

"Who, exactly, are you including in 'we'?" asks Midorima with a suspicious glare, his tone heavily laden with _I do not wish to be part of the Make Kagami Taiga Less Stupid Task Force any longer._

"I meant Taiga, obviously," says Akashi. "Contrary to your ongoing delusions of grandeur, Shintarou, I do not actively spend my time making plans to ensure your continuing discomfort. When can you visit again, Taiga?"

Kagami just looks confused at being invited a second time. "Again?"

"I recommend at least an overnight stay for an adequate historical tour. Two nights would be better. Give me at least a week's notice; my parents will need to know if someone is staying over."

"I'll...let you know," Kagami says, and the complicated mix of feelings showing on his face is truly a sight to behold. Not that Shin-chan would be able to tell, and Akashi seems even more oblivious.

"I'll see you all tomorrow," said Akashi. "Do your best against Atsushi, Shintarou."

"I'm not in need of your well-wishes, Akashi. Save your thoughts for when we meet you in the finals."

"I will expect you, then. You too, Takao-kun." And Akashi fixes his gaze on Takao with the kind of staring, intent eyes that Takao's a little more familiar with. That Takao doesn't really know how to cope with, truth be told.

Fortunately, he doesn't have to, since Shin-chan grabs him by the arm and starts leading him away from Kagami and Akashi. They turn a corner, they cross a street, and then it's just the two of them again. Shin-chan lets go.

"All things considered, that could have gone worse," Shin-chan remarks, as they head back toward the inn where the Shuutoku team is staying during the Interhigh.

"Yeah, it was even fun!" Takao says cheerily, because it actually was. "Educational, too."

"Educational?" Shin-chan gives Takao a dubious look. "I suppose it was. If you managed to sleep through most of junior high history."

"It was educational in other ways," Takao replies, deliberately cryptic. Shin-chan looks irritated in response, which is totally as expected. Takao can't help smiling at that, even though part of him is thinking things like _if only I could explain everything to you_, and _how are you so clueless_ and simultaneously, _thank God you're so clueless._. "You know, Shin-chan, I'm really glad we ended up on the same team."

He's astonished and a little (almost painfully) hopeful when instead of staying silent or spluttering with awkwardness or just rejecting Takao's words outright, Shin-chan says, without missing a beat, "So am I."

** END PART II**.


	3. Part III: Midorima

**Part III: Midorima**

One week before Midorima's second Winter Cup begins, Nakatani-sensei asks him to stay back after English class for a meeting.

It is Wednesday, November 24th. Weather report: mostly cloudy, average temperature 10.5 degrees Celsius, chance of rain 40%. Cancer ranking, 8th. Lucky item: one jumbo-sized egg, farm fresh, free range, organic, and raw.

Midorima keeps it in a wooden egg cup, positioned flush against the wall at the right border of his desk. When the bell rings for lunch break, he watches jealously as his schoolmates patter down the aisles, wary of the desk (and therefore his egg cup, and therefore his egg) being jostled by some clumsy oaf in a hurry to get out of class.

Finally, the classroom is empty save for Nakatani-sensei seated near the blackboard, quietly correcting quizzes.

Midorima stands up. He gathers his satchel and slings its strap across his right shoulder. He places the egg cup with its egg in his left hand. Then he walks over to the teacher's desk and waits.

Nakatani-sensei is in the middle of marking a test paper. He takes a minute to finish it before placing it to one side and saying, "Midorima. Who do you think should be team captain next year?"

"Myself or Takao." Midorima answers without hesitation. There are no other suitable candidates among the second-years.

"And if you were to choose between yourself and Takao?"

"Myself."

"Hmm. For what reasons?"

"Takao is an excellent point guard with many years of experience behind him. He possesses good rapport with the other members of the club and the ability to lead and encourage the underclassmen. However, his desire for victory does not match mine."

"You've been thinking about this for some time."

"I am always prepared."

"You haven't used any of your selfish requests in a few months."

"Three months and four days."

"You won't be entitled to any selfish requests next year, you understand."

"I did not expect to be getting any."

Midorima watches as Nakatani-sensei thinks. Nakatani-sensei thinks as he always does, unhurriedly and methodically: a careful process and a certain answer.

"As usual your analysis is arrogant, though I don't disagree with it. Very well. Starting from the end of the Winter Cup, you and Takao will be captain and vice-captain respectively."

"We will do our best."

"I'll see you later at practice."

Midorima bows politely. He leaves the classroom, heading for the corner of the school grounds where he normally eats lunch with Takao.

#

The Winter Cup descends and proceeds with the anticipated media fanfare. Every year, the legend of the Generation of Miracles grows more exaggerated. Kise's celebrity soars, and his basketball legend with it; the spillover fame onto his former teammates is circumscribed but significant. Midorima has turned down five magazine interviews this year already.

At one point there was talk of a film documentary. Akashi made short shrift of that plan before it got started, thank heavens. But there's still a television crew on sports centre grounds as the opening ceremony begins, covering for the local news station. Takao flashes the camera a V-sign as Shuutoku files into the stadium, blithely ignoring Midorima's disapproving glare.

More important than the journalists are the pro-league scouts, who have been putting in appearances since their first year of high school. Rumour has it Aomine and Murasakibara have already been offered JBL contracts, years in advance of their reaching the eligible ages.

Midorima has planned out the next few years of his life carefully. He knows the exact role that basketball will play in his life: an essential and significant but deliberately limited one. He is not Kise, to be swayed by thoughts of never-ending challenge; he is not Kagami, who thinks only of the next match, the next opponent. But it is impossible to avoid fleeting thoughts of other possibilities as a bright-eyed and dapper recruiter with a Kansai accent comes up to him between matches, suggesting that they sit down to 'discuss Midorima-kun's future."

"I've already given my own future due and length consideration, thank you," Midorima says, although he lets the young man treat him to canned red bean soup anyway. It's ultimately not worth the free drink, though, since he spends the next half hour sitting on a bench in the  
chill December air, missing out on the second round Seihou-Kaijou match and growing increasingly irritated at his companion's inability to take no for an answer.

He finally gets rid of the scout by giving him his email address, a move Midorima is certain he will regret. As soon as the young man is gone Midorima hears a familiar stifled snicker.

"You can come out now," Midorima says.

Takao emerges from behind a clump of bushes. "That was a pretty awkward conversation, Shin-chan."

"If you were there all along, you should have helped me end it." They walk back to the stadium together.

"It was too entertaining to interrupt," Takao says. "Anyhow, Shin-chan, are you sure you don't want to play professionally?"

"Absolutely certain." The astrological readings, his parents' desires, Midorima's own goals – all of them align as far as this decision is concerned. "There will be plenty of opportunities to play at university."

"Where are you applying to?" Takao asks.

There is almost a year to go till entrance exams begin, but Midorima has already begun preparing. He rattles off his top five choices for university programs, in order of preference.

Takao grimaces. "You're such an overachiever. Don't you have a safety school as a backup plan?"

"The third, fourth, and fifth options _are_ safety schools."

Takao stretches out his arms. Guess there's no chance we'll be playing basketball together in uni."

"The possibility never even occurred to me."

"Ouch. Unfeeling as ever. Anyway it looks like there's still the last quarter of the Kaijou match to go," Takao says, as they enter the building, make their way up the stands to where their team is sitting. "Let's see how much Kise's improved while I emotionally recover from your cold-hearted and preemptive rejection."

#

Takao grows stronger each with each passing season. The speed and accuracy of his passes improve, his ball-handling grows steadier, his ability to track the flow of a game – always one of his strengths – grows more impressive each tournament. He predicts Midorima better and Midorima predicts him better.

Even after almost two years, it remains peculiar and unfamiliar to be part of a partnership. In the past Midorima was at the receiving end of Kuroko Tetsuya's passes, yes, thousands of them, and held the requisite faith that Kuroko would play his part in the well-oiled victory machine that was Teikou. But though Midorima trusted Kuroko he did not know him: neither his motivations nor his basketball, nor his limits nor his trajectory nor his emotions. Not as he knows Takao.

Nor was Midorima ever known as Takao knows him. At Teikou Akashi sat on his bench, and could predict, down to individual actions, the given movements any player would perform in a game. But Akashi's knowledge stops at the point where his interest wanes. And the scope of his interest is limited. There is much that Akashi never cared to know, and that Midorima therefore never told him.

Takao listens actively, even when he does not understand. In the beginning Midorima perceived this as one of the many inexplicable things about Takao Kazunari. These days, he sees it as one of Takao's strengths.

Hearing is a first step towards understanding.

It cannot be denied that Akashi never listened.

#

Takao is stronger, as is Midorima. But then, so is Kuroko. So is Akashi. So are all of them.

Sometimes it feels as if the Generation of Miracles has no limits.

Fortunately, perhaps, this feeling is untrue.

#

"The final tally?" asks Akashi.

December 16th, Thursday. Mild showers, average temperature 5.8 degrees Celsius, small chance of snow. Oha Asa rankings: Aquarius 12th, Libra 11th, Virgo 9th , Leo 8th, Cancer 7th, Gemini 5th, Sagittarius dead first. Lucky item for Cancers: a United States nickel. Midorima spent half an hour this morning hunting through his parents' expired passports and foreign currencies before finding the elusive coin.

Midorima rubs his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache after attending three doctor's appointments in a row. Nobody trusts Kise or Aomine to actually _understand_ the orthopaedist's instructions, let alone carry them out, and Momoi was unable to go in with Aomine on account of being female. To top it all off, Akashi insisted that he was too busy with Kagami's injured leg (despite the coach and captain of Seirin sitting right there in the waiting room) to personally see to anyone else and "anyway, aren't _you_ the aspiring physician here, Shintarou?"

In short, it has been a very trying morning.

"Kise has Achilles tendinopathy secondary to overtraining," he answers in response to Akashi's question. "Murasakibara appears to have broken a finger; it's been placed in a splint. Aomine tore the medial collateral ligament of his left knee and won't be allowed to return to play for at least six weeks."

"And yourself, Shintarou?" Akashi is wearing what Midorima recognises as Akashi's _I am surrounded by idiots, but I am going to be superficially courteous about it_ look.

Midorima scowls at Akashi, then winces as a twinge of pain goes through his left shoulder. "Rotator cuff tear," he says curtly. "It shouldn't affect my performance in future tournaments."

"I see." Akashi's eyes convey the message, _Sometimes I forget, Shintarou, that you're an idiot too_.

Since attempting to strangle Akashi will no doubt result in an Ankle Break attack and possibly further injury, Midorima changes the subject. "What I don't get is how Kuroko managed to hurt himself as well." He nods at Kuroko, who is standing silently in a corner nursing an arm in a sling. "While my only surprise at Kagami developing jumper's knee is that he didn't manage to do so before now, it's not at all like you, Kuroko, to overextend yourself foolishly."

"I disagree." Akashi's light tenor voice cuts through the air. "It is exactly like Tetsuya to overstretch himself in a fit of hot-headed basketball passion, although this is not what happened this time. My best estimate of the circumstances leading to Tetsuya's wrist sprain – since Tetsuya himself refuses to discuss the story with me – is that in his haste and concern about Taiga's knee, he failed to pay attention to his immediate surroundings, and thus was caught off-guard when one of the hospital kitchen staff, not noticing Tetsuya's presence, pinned his arm against the wall with a food trolley. The net effect of all of this, of course, is that my participation in the semifinals and finals is rendered completely pointless, and I will have gone the entire Winter Cup without a single minute of game time."

"I'm sure it's very difficult being you, Akashi-kun."

Akashi ignores Kuroko's sarcasm. (Akashi has always had a talent for ignoring words he doesn't want to hear.) Instead, he casts his gaze across the waiting room.

Instinctively, Midorima follows suit. Looks at Aomine, seated near the receptionist's desk with a tubular bandage around his leg, making disgruntled noises as Momoi fusses at him. Looks at Kise, who has been cornered by a small gathering of fellow patients and is now signing autograph after autograph. Looks at Murasakibara, eating sugar.

"One more year," Akashi says quietly, his gaze finally settling on Kagami Taiga, who is sitting quietly with the rest of the Seirin team. "Another year and we cease to be the Generation of Miracles."

But Akashi doesn't stop looking at Kagami as he speaks.

#

By some series of events that fails to make sense no matter how many times Midorima analyses them, Midorima ends up having lunch with Kise Ryouta after the hospital appointments are done.

The difficulties of spending time with Kise are manifold. Firstly there are the secondary inconveniences, like the fans. These days Kise has taken to wearing hat and sunglasses in public spaces. He wears both today: for the headwear, Y-3 autumn collection, khaki, custom-fit; for the glasses, Prada, aviator-style, olive frames. ("Nothing like that horrific thing you wore to Aominecchi and Kurokocchi's match last year, they're not even the same species, really, you should let my personal dresser shop for you sometimes, it would do you a world of good, _ouch_, you're such a bully.").

Despite such precautions, Kise nevertheless contrives to be recognised at every other street corner. Each time he rewards his keen-eyed fans with alacrity and a beamlight smile that immediately provokes recognition in yet more bystanders, with the net result that it takes him and Midorima forty-five minutes to walk eight hundred meters to the ramen shop that is their intended destination.

Midorima could just about tolerate Kise's squealing female devotees, however, if Kise himself weren't intrinsically and _extremely_ annoying.

Worst of all is when Kise decides to use Midorima as a _confidante_, as if Midorima didn't have enough of that kind of thing to do, between Akashi's 9pm phone calls for an emergency long-distance shogi opponent (translation: Akashi had a bad day, has pressing need to bully someone via online shogiban) and Takao's... well, in fact Takao is quite low-maintenance, a startlingly rare quality among Midorima's acquaintances.

Before their ramen even arrives Kise has already launched into a long tale of woe that is in the first place scarcely woeful at all to anyone who isn't Kise Ryouta, and secondly is narrated so incoherently that it takes Midorima a full three minutes to decipher that Kise is complaining about being being made club captain next year.

"How unfortunate for Kaijou," says Midorima.

"That's exactly what I said to the coach! He just answered that I was the best person for the job and announced it to the entire club before I could stop him." Kise sags back in his chair. "Kasamatsu-sempai's in London on exchange and you were the only other person I could think of to ask for advice. Since you've been vice-captain before and all."

"Is there some reason you couldn't ask Akashi instead?"

"Akashicchi's no good, he's too much of a natural." Kise pouts. "You're way more of an inspiration than he is, I mean, you're incredibly obnoxious and socially oblivious, and yet somehow you managed to carry out the vice-captain role at Teikou despite those shortcomings."

Midorima _really_ can't remember how he got duped into having lunch with Kise. "Do you want to die that badly?"

"Hey, it's true," Kise complains. "I still can't believe you went two years without noticing that Momocchi was in love with Kurokocchi. And it's only taken, what, eighteen months to notice that Takao has a crush on you? You have, like, the worst social skills of anyone I know."

"Takao _what_?"

Kise stares back at Midorima with wide, long-lashed eyes. "Oh shit. Shit. You don't know, do you. I thought – since you seemed less mean to him this Winter Cup – Midorimacchi, how are you this oblivious? Is there some sort of Social Retard of the Century Award you're going for that nobody told me about?"

Midorima's head feels like it is melting down secondary to data overload. He makes a credible effort to gather his thoughts together. "Kise, you shouldn't joke about topics like these. It's unseemly."

"I'm not joking! And it's bleeding _obvious_," Kise moans. "Nobody warned me when I took up basketball that I was joining the most romantically incompetent fraternity of sportsmen in Japan."

Midorima ransacks his memory for successful strategies in dealing with Kise Ryouta. As he recalls, physical abuse features prominently in other people's methods. Aomine used to launch basketballs at Kise's head. Kasamatsu Yukio has a large and varied repertoire of flying kicks, uppercuts, and throws.

He's contemplating whether something suitably lethal could be arranged using a pair of wooden chopsticks when Kise gets spotted by yet another contingent of groupies, and the seventh autograph session of the day ensues, leaving Midorima alone with his thoughts.

Takao _what_?

#

_I think you're mistaken_, he emails Kise two days later. December 18th, Saturday morning practice. Cancer ranking 5th, lucky item: leopard-print shawl. The club members are performing shooting drills. From which Midorima is exempt. More specifically, from which he is _banned_, since Takao announced his shoulder injury to the rest of the team at first chance, ruining Midorima's chance to negotiate the terms of his rehabilitation with Nakatani-sensei.

_About Takao?_ Kise's turnaround time on emails has always been lightspeed. _Trust me, I'm not_.

Midorima puts his mobile back on the bench and continues watching his teammates. Watches Takao, the neatness of his movements, his perfect concentration, the way he directs the underclassmen.

Takao hasn't changed at all, Midorima is absolutely certain about that. Today as always Takao is abnormally positive, well-liked, and well...

The best adjective Midorima can come up with to describe Takao is _tolerable_.

He tries to recall whether any of his other friends fall under that same descriptor.

Kise: intolerable.

Akashi: highly, highly intolerable.

Kuroko: blood type A, no need for further discussion.

Murasakibara: once tried to eat Midorima's lucky item (a swirl lollipop) on a day when Cancers were ranked 11th. Intolerable.

Aomine: unsure if Aomine belongs categorically under the label of 'friend', even under the most loose and generous definition of the word. In any case, intolerable.

He attempts to bring his thoughts back to the question at hand, which is after all not what Midorima thinks of Takao (or anyone else) but rather what Takao thinks of... how Takao feels about...

The players pause for a five-minute water break. Takao wanders over to Midorima's end of the court. "You doing okay, Shin-chan? Not too bored?"

There's a light sheen of sweat on Takao's skin. Today he's wearing his fringe pulled back with his sister's red headband; the net effect is messy, with the ends of his hair sticking out from behind the headband at various points. But Takao seems perfectly comfortable with himself as always.

He also seems perfectly comfortable with Midorima, just as he's always been. Shouldn't things be more...uncomfortable if what Kise's saying is true?

"The first years need to improve their footwork," Midorima replies curtly. "Kanda and Onishi in particular. Just watching those two blunder around the key made my shoulder ache more."

"Harsh as always," Takao takes a swig of water. "They'll improve in time for next year's preliminaries. Everyone's nervous and underperforming because you're watching today, Shin-chan."

Midorima blinks. "Why would they be nervous?"

Takao shrugs. "You're our ace and you're our new captain. You're a big deal to the underclassmen, no matter how much they complain about you."

"So they complain about me. I see."

"Whoops! Didn't mean to let that slip," says Takao, not sounding in the least bit sorry. "Time's up."

Takao jogs back to the center circle, smiling at the rest of the club members. Midorima stares at him for a short while. Then he picks up his mobile and emails Kise again.

_I think you are mistaken. Takao is not nearly awkward enough in our interactions to possibly be..._. He pauses, his thumbs hesitating on the touchscreen. _...romantically interested in me._

Kise's reply is instant: _Midorimacchi, you wouldn't recognise awkward if it bit you in the nose._

_I'm recognising it now!_

_So you're saying that things ARE awkward._

_They're awkward because of this idea you've planted in my head!_

Minutes pass without a response. Midorima watches the team execute a series of ball handling exercises, zig-zagging their way around a row of orange plastic cones. The first years are better at this than they were at the earlier drills. Takao has the best technique, naturally. Not for nothing has Takao been Shuutoku's main point guard for two years.

Not for nothing has Takao been Midorima's shadow all this time.

The metaphor sits uneasily with Midorima. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. But Midorima does not play basketball merely to shine, and Takao does not play basketball merely to support.

Not even at Teikou did Kuroko play basketball merely to support.

His mobile sounds. It's Kise again, finally. Midorima opens the email.

_So. Do you actually like him back? Or are you too clueless to admit THAT as well?_

Midorima has hit his limit for Kise tolerance for the day. _Drop dead_, he messages back.

Then he switches his mobile off.

#

As usual he goes out for lunch with Takao after Saturday practice. They flip a coin for the choice of restaurant. Takao still allows Janken when they're electing the rickshaw cyclist but balks at playing a game he's sure to lose when yakiniku is at stake.

Takao calls heads, and wins. Midorima resigns himself to eating truly pathological quantities of grilled beef rib, but doesn't make a fuss. An agreement is an agreement, and it doesn't hurt to let Takao enjoy his small victories.

(And at least Takao has never been impudent or foolish enough to suggest that they eat okonomiyaki again, _ever_.)

They go to the usual place, and order the usual selection of ingredients and sides, and Takao sets to grilling. (Midorima lets him do all the work. He hates the task anyhow, and the one time he attempted it he burned the onions and sent Takao into a fit of snickers.) It's all very ordinary, very comfortable, very normal.

There's nothing about what they are doing that suggests to Midorima that Takao somehow-

That Takao—

Midorima makes another valiant attempt at preventing his thoughts from grinding to a halt. He's not succeeding.

The meat cooks. Takao starts serving it out, heaping generous portions onto Midorima's plate and onto his own. They make conversation. (Not small talk, thank heavens, one of the things that catapults Takao into the category of _tolerable_ is his lack of useless wittering.) They talk about what Shuutoku's basketball club will be like now that the third-years have retired.

Unsurprisingly, Takao knows the club members far better than Midorima does. Unless they happen to have been _especially_ annoying, Midorima remembers his_ kouhai_ by name, face, basketball skills (or lack of), and very little else. He's never been able to figure out how Takao remembers everyone's personalities and quirks, details like what class they're in or how many siblings they have.

(Akashi used to be able to do the same thing at Teikou, Midorima recalls, but only because Akashi's memory for detail is inhuman. Akashi certainly never showed any especial interest in personal information, not the way Takao does.)

They've finished grilling and eating most of the food (and have gossiped their way through two-thirds of the basketball club) when they lapse into silence. A natural lull in the conversation, Midorima thinks, nothing unusual going on.

At least until Takao gives him a frown and asks, "Shin-chan, what's going on?"

Takao's tone is light and easy, the way it always is. When they first became teammates Midorima used to believe that Takao was flippant about anything and everything. He's since learnt that Takao is just good at hiding his underlying emotions.

Still though. Is it really possible to hide something like _that_, and for so long?

"You're kind of weird today," Takao says. "You've been weird since this morning."

Midorima's glasses have fogged up slightly. He retrieves a cleaning cloth from his schoolbag and take up his glasses in order to wipe the lenses. The restaurant, the table, Takao's face all blur in front of him.

"I can see how my behaviour might have seemed a little unusual, yes," he says, placing his spectacles back into position.

"Is there anything wrong?"

"No," Midorima snaps back. Too quickly.

Takao raises his brows. "That was _far_ too vehement to be convincing, Shin-chan."

Midorima flushes. "It's not anything you'd be interested in knowing."

Takao studies Midorima's face, and then sighs. "See, I _know_ you don't mean it, but you saying it that way just sounds like you're trying to pique my curiosity even more."

Midorima checks up on his lucky item. The shawl is still there, a corner of it peeking out from beneath the satchel cover, velvety and yellow and rosetted. Oha Asa had no specific advice this morning, beyond a vague statement about Cancers seizing opportunities in work and in relationships.

Should he _ask_ Takao once and for all, and clear up the question?

He's still hesitating when Takao says, "Shin-chan, you're making me nervous here."

A decision has to be made.

"It's a trivial matter." Midorima forces himself to meet Takao's narrow eyes (which are indeed anxious, not a common emotion for Takao to display.). "It's just something Kise said."

"And?" Takao asks gently.

There's no way he can say it in a way that sounds natural. "He said that you were interested in me. Romantically."

He gets the words out and waits for Takao to laugh. Or say something. Smooth things over. That's what Takao is good at, right?

Instead all Midorima gets is a flat, "Oh." And then silence. Silence while Takao doesn't look at him, and he doesn't look at Takao.

"Is that all you have to say?" Midorima asks finally.

"Tell me what you want me to say," Takao says, his face guarded.

"The _truth_, obviously."

"Is that what you really want?" A group of fellow diners leave, and suddenly it feels unnaturally silent in the restaurant as Midorima and Takao stare at each other. "Shin-chan, do you want things to change between us?"

Midorima wants to clarify what Takao means exactly by _things_. But he's never seen Takao like this before, and he keeps wondering...he keeps thinking that if he says the wrong words here, events may play out in a way he regrets, lucky item or no lucky item.

"I want us to still be friends," he says. "I want us to continue leading Shuutoku to victory. I don't want that to change."

"Neither do I," Takao says, so softly that Midorima has to strain to hear it. "Nothing has to change, Shin-chan."

A hundred protests flash through Midorima's head. _You haven't told me the truth. I still don't understand. It's not like you to sidestep my questions like this._

But he can't bring himself to say anything out loud.

They pay the restaurant bill. They originally had plans to go shopping together; Takao cancels those plans. Midorima takes the bus home. He goes straight to the grand piano in the living room and begins to work his way through JS Bach's _The Well-Tempered Clavier_, piece by piece by piece. It's something he used to do, towards the end of their time at Teikou, when basketball was getting more confusing and difficult by the day.

Even back at Teikou he's never felt the way he does now, as if his own mind isn't working properly.

He plays for hours, until his sister sticks her head in and asks him to either stop or switch to Mozart. His shoulder is aching, so he goes up to his room. Sits at his desk, stares at his laptop screen.

_Haven't things already changed, whether we want it or not?_ he emails Takao.

Then he phones Akashi, asking for a game of online chess. Sometimes, the certainty of loss is a reassuring fact to cling to.

#

He calls Kise in the end, for lack of other suitable people to discuss the problem with. (Also because an entire night of sleeplessness has yielded absolutely no insight on the matter).

He resigns himself in advance to the conversation being excruciating torture and it is, although not for the reasons Midorima expected. It is an overwhelmingly humiliating experience having Kise Ryouta _attempt_ to be patient and empathic with you. He'd much rather take the supercilious mocking.

"That sounds like a difficult conversation, Midorimacchi," Kise says, when Midorima has finished. "What do you plan to do now?"

_If I had any idea, would I be talking to you?_ Midorima bites back the urge to scream at the phone. '

"Hmm." Kise sounds thoughtful. (It is quite possibly the only time in Midorima's life he has witnessed Kise being _thoughtful_. Too bad he's not in a state of mind to appreciate it.) "I guess it comes back a bit to my earlier question, the one you never answered. Do you like him back?"

"I'm not sure."

"So it's not a blanket denial? That's surprising coming from you."

"Takao is my closest friend," Midorima says. He doesn't normally think about his teammates in terms of friends or closeness, but nevertheless. He thinks of Akashi, and the hours they spent together, and that sense of unbreachable distance that was present even they were children. How he's never really known what to do when it comes to Akashi, beyond accepting the terms that Akashi offers: comrades, teammates, enemies, rivals.

Takao is a different story. Takao reaches out, but doesn't push, doesn't dictate. There's never been anything complicated about being partners with Takao. Until now.

He looks at the time on the alarm clock in his bedroom. 11am. Cancer ranking 7th, lucky item an igneous rock. Advice for today: continue to pursue the chances that opened up to you the day before. Weather report irrelevant, since Midorima has no intention of going out this afternoon.

"I don't want to make a mistake when it comes to this," Midorima says.

Kise lets out a little breath. "For the record, Midorimacchi, I can't read your mind, and I'm sure your way of having a crush on someone would be totally abnormal anyway, but from where I'm standing, it looks to me like you _do_ like him back. At least a little bit."

Midorima makes a noncommittal noise. Within him, the impulse to deny everything completely wars with another stranger, newer instinct.

He cannot be unfair to Takao. Not when Takao has been more than fair. More than patient, all this time.

"You know, Kurokocchi and I have this running bet on who would get his act together first, Akashicchi or you."

"Akashi?" Midorima asks blankly.

"His love-love denial scenario with Kagamicchi has gone on for nearly six months. It's getting boring." Kise yawns. "Yes, I know you hadn't noticed that one either. But I thought it might make you feel better about Takao-kun if you were busy screeching like a monkey at the thought of Akashicchi and Kagamicchi dating."

"I'm going to hang up on you now," Midorima tells him.

"You're totally welcome, Midorimacchi." Kise's voice is amused.

When the phone call terminates Midorima removes his glasses in order to rub at his eyes. Akashi _what_.

He forces himself to focus. Currently Midorima has neither time nor energy to think about Akashi's horrendous taste in love interests.

First things first.

#

Monday morning practice passes in a startling state of normalcy. Weather report: clear skies, average temperature of 4.7 degrees Celsius, 10% chance of snow. Lucky item: a pair of hand-knitted gloves. (It took several frantic phone calls to aunts and great-aunts this morning in order to obtain this one.)

Midorima's still forbidden from any sort of exercise that would strain his supraspinatus tendon, so he runs laps and performs basic stretches and then reluctantly goes back to sitting on the sidelines. Nakatani-sensei isn't here today, so Takao takes charge of practice. He's good at it. The underclassmen follow his lead, move in a quick and organised fashion, train hard.

Takao would have been a perfectly acceptable choice for captain. It is not in Midorima's nature to rethink his opinions once he has considered and formed them. But it is true that without Takao around-

Leading Shuutoku would not be easy without Takao by his side. Perhaps it wouldn't even be possible.

Takao on the other hand, seems to be leading the team perfectly well without Midorima's help.

In no scenario has Midorima ever envisaged playing basketball at Shuutoku without Takao's support. Their partnership may be finite, limited to their high school years, but Midorima has come to depend on it. It's difficult to imagine what the next year will be like if things go wrong now.

What if he rejects Takao's feelings, and they stop being friends, being partners?

What if he accepts Takao's feelings, and things go wrong anyway?

What if they pretend that their Saturday conversation never happened?

But it will be impossible to pretend.

#

The normal thing, Midorima supposes (not that he has much of a basis for comparison when it comes to deciding what a _normal_ reaction to this kind of situation is), would have been for them to avoid each other.

Instead, they find each other at the usual place at lunchtime – the courtyard near the science building, a painted bench beneath a bare-branched maple tree.

"Hi, Shin-chan." Takao gives a smile that's obviously awkward even to someone as (allegedly) socially oblivious as Midorima.

They sit down and start eating. Midorima can't help noticing that their positions are slightly further apart than usual; there's about a foot of distance between them. Takao is almost at the end of the bench.

He waits until they both finish their lunch to speak. (As difficult as this conversation will be, it will be twice as difficult if one of them is trying to chew and eat at the same time.)

"Takao. We need to talk."

Takao closes the lid on his bento box, places it aside. "Yeah, we do."

There's a shuttered look in Takao's eyes, almost as if Takao has steeled himself for a fight, for disappointment, for... this is absolutely ridiculous. There has never been any need for Takao to look like that in front of Midorima.

"I think we should try dating," Midorima says.

"Yeah, I think that's a really good idea... _what_?" Takao stares at him, eyes widening. "What did you just say?"

"I think you heard me." Midorima sits stiffly, aware that he's blushing.

And then Takao is blushing too. Just slightly, but it's enough to be a novel experience. He's never seen Takao visibly embarrassed before.

Midorima has run out of things to say, so he just lets things hang awkwardly. It's usually Takao who knows what to say next in situation like this.

It takes a long time for Takao to respond. "Shin-chan, you know I'm okay with our staying just friends."

"You already told me that on Saturday," Midorima says (in a horrendously tangled and un-Takao manner, it is true, but Midorima eventually got the message). "I disagree. I think that's pointless. We can't pretend that what has already been said can be unsaid."

"Oh," says Takao in a small voice.

Midorima glances back at Takao. "You look worried."

"No. Yes." Takao pushes a stray lock of hair behind his right ear. "I'm just trying to process the fact that you found out, and you didn't have a complete meltdown."

"I had the meltdown in front of Kise," Midorima says, summing up some sense of annoyance. "I'd rather have had it in front of you."

"Oh," Takao says again.

They look at each other, and then Midorima holds out his hand, the left one.

Takao reaches out. Their fingers meet. Intertwine.

Takao says softly, "Shin-chan, I really really like you. Not just as a friend, I mean more than that. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before."

"I like you too," Midorima says. "At least, it seems that I do. As more than a friend."

He's spent four days worrying about what this means, and all the things that could go wrong, and whether he truly understands what this change will mean for the both of them. But the worrying and the planning stops somewhere. He's prepared for this new relationship as much as he possibly can.

Sometimes, you have to leave things to fate.

#

Mostly, things don't change at all.

There is basketball and there is Shuutoku and there is the rickshaw, with the associated endless games of Janken which Takao always loses. There are the usual shopping expeditions for lucky items and trading cards. They spend lunchtime together everyday, and club practice, and visit each other's houses on weekends.

Takao still goes into random fits of stifled laughter for reasons Midorima can't discern at all.

He's still endlessly careful – _too_ careful - not to push Midorima's boundaries. It's Midorima who initiates the first kiss, weeks later, in Takao's room, after asking very politely and stiffly if it's okay to do so.

It's just a brush of lips at first, both of them hesitant – and then he reaches out and pulls Takao closer, feels the heat of his breath, the way their mouths meet: firstly cautious, then intimate.

"You really do like me back," Takao says wonderingly, when they finally break apart.

Midorima lets out a huff of air: "Isn't that what I've been saying," he says, but he looks at the soft delighted emotion in Takao's eyes and suddenly feels content inside. It's hard pretending to being indignant under the current circumstances.

Takao suddenly reaches out and touches his cheek. "Thank you, Shin-chan."

Midorima looks at Takao's face, and can't help flushing. "You don't have to thank me for anything."

"What if I want to?"

"Not for anything," Midorima repeats, and because it's less awkward than continuing the conversation, he moves closer and kisses Takao again.

**END PART III**


	4. Part IV: Akashi

**Part IV: Kagami**

The message arrived halfway through fourth period, just as the math teacher was explaining Poisson distributions. Despite being on silent Kagami's cellphone produced a surprisingly loud nose vibrating against his desk.

Several classmates stared, including Kuroko, and the teacher shot Kagami a dirty look. There was no choice but to wait until the bell rang to check his mobile mail.

As always, Akashi's words were brief and polite and to the point. _Please teach me how to cook_.

Akashi rarely emailed during school hours. Kagami puzzled over the message throughout the early afternoon; keeping him awake during Japanese literature class for the first time in six weeks.  
By the time he arrived at basketball practice he'd given up trying to work it out.

As with most ideas of Akashi's, the plan would eventually be revealed bit by bit. Kagami had faith in that. Mostly.

#

These days Akashi's idea of using Skype was to start a video call, leave it running for hours, and then potter around doing his homework (less often) or playing tactical board games (more often) until some topic he wanted to talk about occurred to him. Then he would catch Kagami's attention, and Kagami would wander back from whatever he was doing (food, laundry, food, NCAA Youtube videos) back to the laptop screen to listen to Akashi's little speeches.

(They really were much more like one-way speeches than two-way conversations – long and clever and soothing to the ear, even when Kagami couldn't make head or tail of them, which was most of the time.)

Akashi wasn't making much more sense than usual today.

"Let me get this straight," Kagami said. "You're organising a cooking contest. Between the home economics club and the basketball club."

"It's the third time we're running it." Akashi had a knack of looking directly at the camera lens when speaking, so that Kagami had a false sense of eye contact being made. "Perhaps it will become a yearly Rakuzan tradition."

Kagami tried to think of something to say in reply, failed, and stayed silent.

Akashi raised one finely arched brow. "If you have questions, Taiga, it's usually better to express them than to stare with a befuddled expression."

It was impossible for Akashi to physically stab him via video call. Probably. Kagami plunged ahead: "Did you cook in last year's competition?"

Akashi made a fleeting moue with his lips. "Over the last twenty-six months the basketball club at Rakuzan has participated in no fewer than thirty-four amicable contests with eighteen other clubs within our school. I am pleased to say that in thirty-two of those instances I was an active contestant and made crucial contributions to our club's treasury by leading the team to victory in all thirty-two cases. _However_, both last year and the year before, it was Reo who led the cooking team."

Akashi had a habit of speaking in unnecessarily complicated sentences. It took Kagami a little while to untangle what Akashi had just said. "I didn't know Mibuchi was good at cooking."

"I like your cooking better than Reo's," Akashi said, and long before Kagami could stammer out a response to that, Akashi had already moved on. "I expect you'll have free time this weekend to instruct me?"

"You'll come to Tokyo this weekend?" Kagami asked, immediately hating how his voice came out, hopeful and a little raw.

"I'll be at your apartment at Friday at 8pm," Akashi replied. Which meant he was unlikely to arrive anytime before nine o'clock.

Not that it'd make much difference, since Kagami would be waiting all evening anyway. Lately it felt like he was always doing this, waiting for Akashi.

Even if he wasn't sure exactly what he was waiting for Akashi to _do_.

#

True to form, Akashi didn't arrive until half-past nine.

He was carrying two suitcases: a wheeled Cordura one, maroon, that he was still holding by the extendable handle, and a smaller black case in his left hand that Kagami instinctively reached for.

Akashi handed over the piece of luggage with a polite nod of acknowledgement. "Good evening, Taiga."

"Hello," Kagami said, before being distracted by the sudden surprising weight of the bag he'd taken. "That's...heavy."

"There are recipe books in there." Akashi stepped into the apartment, pulling his other suitcase behind him. Kagami shut the door and followed him further inside. "We'll look at them tomorrow."

He hadn't seen Akashi in person in nearly three months.

Akashi hadn't changed much. His fringe was a little longer, his skin more tanned than it had been in winter. He wore a dark green windbreaker, fully zipped, over boot-cut jeans.

He smiled slightly as he looked up at Kagami, only to have the smile turn into a yawn. "My apologies. I'd hoped we could start the lessons tonight, but I think I'd better go to sleep soon."

"Have you had dinner yet?" Kagami asked, placing the suitcase of books down on the floor next to the couch.

Akashi shook his head.

"There's leftovers, if you like, or I can make something quickly," offered Kagami.

"Either will be fine."

He heated up the food while Akashi went into the spare room to unpack his things, then laid out the dishes and rice and soup for both of them.

Akashi came back out and raised a brow when he saw the meal spread out on the table. "You've eaten already, haven't you?"

Kagami shrugged. "I'm still hungry."

Akashi tilted his chin upwards, and Kagami shifted uncomfortably as he felt Akashi's gaze rake his torso and upper arms. "You've gained four kilograms since the Winter Cup." Then, in a disgruntled tone: "You've also grown two and a half centimetres."

"...Sorry," Kagami said, as they seated themselves.

"Insincerity doesn't become you, Taiga." Akashi placed his palms together. "_Itadakimasu_."

As usual, Kagami finished eating long before Akashi. He ended up sitting there, watching Akashi in silence. There was a practised elegance to the way Akashi ate, just as there was with almost everything the smaller boy did.

Akashi took a sip of shiro miso soup and looked across the table. "By the way, have you decided what you'll do next year?"

They'd talked about college the last time Akashi visited Tokyo. Kagami had been avoiding the topic since. It was still difficult thinking about Akashi and the future at the same time: both subjects seemed so distant and elusive, so out of his control, that when placed together they made Kagami feel frustrated at best and hopeless at worst.

"UCLA," he answered after a few seconds. "My old man's still working in California, so it makes sense."

"What do you plan to study?"

"Hell if I know." The only prep he'd done for college so far (besides asking Akashi for SATs tutoring) was sending video footage of his recent Interhigh games to as many Pacific-12 colleges as he could. Tatsuya had done the same thing last year and was planning to help Kagami sort through the email responses from coaches over the next few weeks.

"I would recommend not majoring in English, or Japanese, or history," Akashi said thoughtfully. "I would also advise against mathematics, physics, chemistry and geography."

Kagami glared at him. Akashi just smiled.

"Sports science would be an option, I suppose, if I weren't worried about your ability to pass human biology." Akashi finished eating with a quietly spoken "_Gochisousama._"

Kagami began to clear the table.

The last time they'd discussed this topic Akashi hadn't even decided which country he was going to attend university in; he'd mentioned Harvard, and Oxford, and Toudai, and finished by saying he might as well apply to all of them, for the sake of the experience. Kagami had mentally categorised them as _far_, _further_, and _with that timezone difference even Skype's gonna be difficult_, even while realising he really shouldn't care where Akashi went for college.

"Another bj-league team tried to recruit me last week," Kagami mentioned, as he was rinsing the dishes; Akashi was drying the clean ones with a tea towel. "Ryukyu."

"You turned them down, of course."

"I said I'd think about it." He finished washing the last of the rice bowls. "I'm not planning to accept, I just wanted...to think about it."

"Well, it's your choice." Akashi put away the dishes as Kagami wiped the dining table down. "I do rather think it's a waste of time, dwelling on possibilities that you're certain won't come to pass."

Kagami didn't – or rather couldn't – say anything to that.

#

He awoke while it was still dark. He knew from experience that Akashi wouldn't stir until seven in the morning at least, so he put on his trainers and went for a run, breathing in the sharp morning air.

Akashi was in Tokyo until Sunday afternoon. It was hard not to feel content.

Dawn was in full progress by the time Kagami got back to the apartment. He took a shower, changed, did a quick inventory of the refrigerator (dangerously low on groceries), and at 6:55 AM heard the sound of a news broadcast emerging from the spare room; the morning alarm on Akashi's smartphone activating.

It was another twenty minutes before Akashi had finished dressing and brushing his teeth and hair. Once he had, he sat down on the living room floor and set to opening the black suitcase Kagami had found unexpectedly heavy last night.

A half-dozen hardcover books, each of them at least five hundred pages long to go by the thickness, emerged from within the trunk. Akashi spread them out on the floor.

Kagami sat down next to Akashi and examined the titles. "_Larousse Gastronomique_?" He stared at Akashi with a sinking feeling; it wasn't as if he was _surprised_, but still...

"Quite effective bedtime reading, I assure you. It's staved off my insomnia at least three times within the last fortnight." Akashi picked up a slightly smaller tome. "I found Julia Child much easier to follow. I brought English-language cookbooks where possible; it seemed pointless for me to be engaging you in esoteric kanji vocabulary lessons just for the sake of learning how to make duck confit."

"You do know I can't cook French food."

"Rest assured that I harbour no illusions regarding your knowledge of European haute cuisine. Hence, the recipe books."

Kagami's stomach growled.

Akashi cast his eyes on Kagami's abdomen. "I'm rather hungry myself. Shall we prepare breakfast?

"Sure." Kagami checked the pantry; he was down to his last dozen eggs. "What do you want to eat?"

"I'm rather inclined to start with French cooking," Akashi mused. "My father and I last visited Paris three years ago. Our hotel in Saint-Germain served the most delightful little mini-croissants for breakfast, accompanied by _pain au lait_ and a selection of Christine Ferber artisan jams."

"...we're not making croissants."

"No, pastry-making is more Atsushi's forte than yours. I'll be visiting Akita next weekend." Akashi continued through the the pages of _Mastering the Art of French Cooking_.

"Omelettes are French, right? We can make some of those." Kagami reached out and took the book out of Akashi's hands. Despite himself he was feeling irritated.

It wasn't even as if Akashi would be sleeping over at Murasakibara's home – Murasakibara lived in the dorms, and Akashi would have to book a hotel in Akita. And Akashi could and would do exactly as he pleased. Kagami had figured _that_ out the first time he met the elegant, arrogant, absolutely maddening former Teikou captain.

It didn't necessarily mean anything that Akashi was asking Kagami for help.

"I suppose it's good to begin with the basics," Akashi said.

#

As far as Kagami's cooking students went, Akashi showed more aptitude than Coach Riko (not saying much), made fewer messes than Tatsuya (again not saying much), and possessed even less culinary experience than Kuroko did (which was saying quite a lot).

"Omurice in junior high," Akashi said, when Kagami asked him if he'd cooked before. "It was a moderately successful attempt, although admittedly Teikou's home economics curriculum was very unexacting. "

"You only cooked _once_ in home economics class?" Kagami tossed the empty egg carton into the rubbish bin. They were up to four omelettes so far: two scrambled, two rolled, all perfectly formed. Akashi was making a fifth and final one _au fromage_.

"As I said. The curriculum was most unexacting." Akashi gently flipped the last omelette onto a plate. "Shall we eat?"

For breakfast Akashi consumed one piece of toast, a mouthful of each of the five varieties of omelette he'd created – plain, _aux fines herbes, aux épinards_, sprinkled with diced ham - and one cup of black filter coffee. (Akashi had surprisingly low-calorie, low-protein tastes in food given how sensitive about height he was.)

Kagami finished eating two omelettes in the time it took Akashi to finish half his toast. "Can you tell me more about this cooking contest?" Presumably Akashi had some reason for for doing this competition. Not that Akashi usually needed reasons to get involved once the word 'competition' was uttered.

Akashi picked up the pepper grinder and gently scattered white pepper onto his chunks of omelette. "There isn't much to tell. Five members will participate from either club. A selection of four dishes will be required, and the judging panel consists of three teachers, two students, and an independent guest judge. The losing club will be required perform a specified task for the winner."

"So there are prizes."

"It'd hardly be worth this time and effort if there were no material gain involved." Akashi drained his coffee cup. "For instance, if the basketball club wins we will expect the Home Economics Club to cater food at all club events for the rest of the academic year. This includes supplying refreshments for our players at official matches."

Kagami shrugged. "Seems like a harsh punishment for losing one contest."

"It's what they've been doing for the last two years. This competition is merely a formality to justify the status quo." Akashi stacked the dirty plates in the sink. "Have you ever considered investing in a dishwasher? Or preferably, a housekeeper? All this manual labour seems like a singular waste of time."

"I don't often have this many dishes to wash." Kagami opened his fridge door, and stared at the bare shelves within. "We're out of meat and vegetables. Tell me what you want to make today and we'll go to the shops."

"Just let me consult Julia," said Akashi.

He told Kagami more about the home economics club as the two of them walked to the supermarket. "The club president is the son of one of Kyoto's notable chefs, a Cordon Bleu graduate who works at one of the local three star Michelin Restaurants. The vice-president, on the other hand, is the daughter of a _ryokan_ famed for its classical _kaiseki_ cuisine."

"And you think you can beat them. In a cooking contest."

"I asked you for cooking lessons, Taiga, not lessons in how to win cooking contests. Leave the winning to me; I have a strategy in mind."

"Do I even want to know what your plan is?"

"It doesn't involve blackmail, intimidation, or physical violence." Akashi lowered his eyelashes. "Yet."

Some days, Kagami wanted Akashi to live in Tokyo so badly that he just felt stupid, longing after something as nebulous and unsafe and frankly, _impossible_ as Akashi's presence.

On other days, though, he thought about the consequences of Akashi living so close to the rest of the Generation of Miracles, making all these little plans to conquer the world and then carrying them out, getting on Aomine's nerves (and by extension Kuroko's), and he felt grateful for every kilometre of distance between Rakuzan and Seirin.

Geographic distance wasn't even the main thing really. Mostly it was just...the stuff that should be more obvious. Like, _You call all the time. Even when my grades got better._

Does that mean anything.

Is it just my basketball that matters to you.

Are you going to leave, once you're satisfied that you can win against me?

It was all the things he couldn't say, and wouldn't say, if only because he felt dead certain that if he were to speak, the only response he'd get from Akashi was a puzzled frown.

#

Himuro Tatsuya turned up on Monday with four boxes of pizza and a six-pack of imported beer.

"Thought you could use the company," he said, pulling the stay-tab off the first of the beer cans and handing it to Kagami. "I brought some moves, wanna watch?"

They watched an awful straight-to-DVD film about an inner-city high school basketball coach and the troubled and talented kids whom he was teaching math and spelling and how to say no to drugs (and occasionally, _some_ basketball).

"Alex would have skinned us alive if she caught us smoking dope," Tatsuya said thoughtfully, "but the math and spelling do ring a bell in your case."

"Shut up," Kagami grumbled. "Why did you think I needed the company anyway?" On the TV screen, one of the delinquent basketball players performed a reverse dunk, accompanied by the crescendo of a cheery pop music soundtrack.

Tatsuya helped himself to a slice of Pizza Marinara. "It's a textbook pattern with you every time Akashi visits," he informed Kagami. "Thursday you're anxious, Friday you're pacing like a lion with an anxiety disorder, and by the time Monday comes around you're elated and heartbroken at the same time."

Kagami felt himself reddening. "That's not true," he protested weakly.

Tatsuya smiled. "It's absolutely true, but that's okay, Taiga," he said in a _kind_ and _understanding_ voice that just made Kagami want to drop through a hole in the floor.

He took a long swig of beer and pretended to be absorbed in that, so he wouldn't have to look at Tatsuya.

"So when do you plan on confessing?"

Kagami stifled a groan. "Can we not talk about this?"

"But it's so entertaining," Tatsuya said sweetly. "Plus your love life is pathetic and badly needs a well-staged intervention."

Kagami thought of some of Tatsuya's 'well-staged interventions' over the years and shuddered a little. "I can figure it out myself, thanks."

"The same way you've been figuring it out for the eleven months, yes." Tatsuya turned down the volume on the television, where the protagonist was in the middle of a fight with a neighbourhood street gang who had just tried to offer him heroin. "It's not healthy keeping your emotions bottled up, you know."

"Speak for yourself."

"Do as I say, not as I do," Tatsuya said lightly. "One of these days I really will have to meet Akashi Seijuurou and discover what the fuss is all about. Between you and Atsushi I'm starting to think he's a demigod come in the flesh."

"I don't think Akashi's a demigod."

"No, you think he's hot, which is worse."

Kagami couldn't deny that, so he just flushed instead, which only added to the mirth in Tatsuya's eyes.

"Do what you want, Taiga," he said. And then, more seriously: "I'll always support you no matter what. But don't make the mistakes of you and me."

And Tatsuya looked a little sad, the way he did sometimes, when they talked about the two of them. _It wasn't your fault_, Kagami automatically wanted to say. But he didn't speak aloud, since Tatsuya wouldn't believe him anyway. And maybe it was partly Tatsuya's fault, but then it had been partly Kagami's fault as well.

Instead he said: "But we're good now. You and me." He met Tatsuya's eyes, and tried to look certain. But it had always been Tatsuya who decided, whether they were good or not, whether they were brothers or rivals or best friends. Kagami was getting better at speaking up, at _asking_, but it was still difficult changing old habits.

In a couple of months Tatsuya would get tired of hitting up Tokyo wine bars and moonlighting at host clubs and then he would return to Los Angeles, the place where their friendship had begun, where their basketball had begun. Alex's city.

And Kagami would join him, a year later. They'd be together, just like they'd always been.

If he had Alex and Tatsuya, he could just about deal with maybe never seeing Akashi again. Maybe.

Tatsuya gave a soft smile. "Yeah," he said, handing Kagami another slice of pizza, "We're good."

#

Akashi spent the better part of the next fortnight on a culinary rampage, going by the pictures he emailed Kagami on a daily basis. For the first few days he systematically cooked his way trhough a progression of classic French dishes: onion soup on Monday (_Imperfectly prepared gratin is revolting to the tastebuds. I wish Ryouta were here to help me dispose of the failed attempts, given his peculiar weakness for this particular dish; as it is, most of the soup is going to the butler's compost heap_), pot au feu on Tuesday. On Wednesday and Thursday, beef daube and bouillabaisse.

Unsurprisingly, Akashi seemed to be learning quickly. The photographs he sent would have made a pretty decent-looking Flickr album. (Of course it was possible to prepare food that looked great without being remotely edible, as Coach Riko had proven time and time again, but most of what Akashi had made on the weekend had tasted fine, not that Kagami knew what an authentic coq au vin was meant to taste like.)

Friday night Akashi sent no pictures, only a tersely worded _On my way to Akita_. Kagami emailed back wishing him a safe trip, and then, to help resist the urge to keep messaging, went out to the closest street courts to practice outside shots by lamplight. The moon was full; the summer air cool and heavy; the courts silent save for the rub of Kagami's shoes on asphalt and the bounce of the basketball. He played for two hours, then wandered home.

Saturday morning there was club practice, and after that was over Kagami ended up on a shopping expedition with Aomine and Momoi and Kuroko – which was to say, Aomine and Momoi shopped, and bought countless items, and argued with each other nonstop, while Kagami and Kuroko followed at a safe distance and carried shopping bags. Eventually Kuroko got fed up and pulled a disappearing act while Kagami wasn't paying attention. The three of them conducted a twenty-five minute manhunt before they finally spotted him drinking a vanilla milkshake in a bookstore cafe, surrounded by half a dozen of Aomine and Momoi's bags.

"Tetsu-kun, I'm so sorry," Momoi said, in a stricken tone, while Aomine said nothing and pulled facial expressions that were as close to being contrite as Aomine could manage.

"I just felt like buying some books," Kuroko said, and everyone took the hint and prepared to stay in the bookstore for at least another half-hour. It didn't take long before Aomine drifted over to the gravure magazine shelves as if drawn by some magnetic force. Momoi pulled a face and went to browse magazines in the adjacent section, health and beauty.

Kagami ordered five burgers and remained in the cafe section with Kuroko, who was perusing the dust jacket of a newly purchased Ruth Rendell novel in translation.

While Kagami was waiting for his order to arrive a message arrived from Akashi. Finally.

_Today's handiwork: Gateau St. Honore, Crepes Suzette, Apple Tart_. The accompanying photograph showed an entire dining table filled with desserts, each serving plate garnished with flowers and sliced fruit and colored ribbon. _Thankfully, Atsushi appears to be more than equal to the task of eating it all, including the unused dough._

_Looks good_, Kagami emailed back. _Good luck with the brioches._

"I presume that's Akashi-kun?" Kuroko asked. "How is he doing?"

"Making pastries," Kagami answered.

Kuroko raised a brow. Kagami showed him the photos on his mobile phone.

Kuroko said nothing. Over the last two years, Kuroko and Kagami had build a firm partnership on the foundation of not saying anything to each other outside what was strictly necessary. It was a habit Kagami was profoundly grateful for.

(Of course they _did_ talk when it came to the things that were necessary; Kuroko tended to be better than Tatsuya as far as that was concerned. But Kagami and Kuroko had talked about Akashi before and really, there was nothing left to be said.)

#

_The competition is this weekend,_ messaged Akashi, early Monday morning. _For the remainder of this time I will be concentrating on Japanese cuisine_.

Monday afternoon: _Unexpected developments. Will update you later_.

Tuesday Kagami received a photograph of a beautifully-arranged traditional meal: cucumber pickles, broiled fish, a small black bowl of soup, tempura in a lacquer dish. There was no caption or accompanying message.

He logined to Skype on Wednesday, unsure if he'd find Akashi there; it was their usual day for academic tutoring, but mostly they just talked these days, since Kagami was no longer in constant danger of failing. And Akashi had been known to miss Skype chat, particularly when he was fixated on a goal like he currently was.

But Akashi did come online, at about eighty-thirty in the evening. He looked tired and a little harried, but he smiled as he looked into the camera.

"Good evening, Taiga," he said softly, in that light precise voice of his.

"Hello." Kagami shifted in his seat a little. He was used to thinking of Akashi as attractive, but it was always surprising, how the refinement of the other boy's features caught him off-guard, every time. Akashi's face wasn't beautiful in the way that Kise's was, but it was sharp and balanced and intelligent, and Kagami felt its draw far more strongly than he ever felt Kise's.

"How has your week been?" Akashi asked.

"Same as usual." Kagami shrugged. "Not as busy as yours."

Akashi looked reflective. "Busy but productive, I would say. Although I am beginning to weary of the culinary arts."

"You mentioned unexpected developments."

"Well. Those were not directly to do with the cooking process." Akashi gave a little frown.

"What happened?"

"Do you recall my telling you about the Home Economics Club vice-president? The young lady who grew up in a _ryokan_?"

Kagami nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"At the beginning of this week she approached me, offering to let the basketball club win this weekend's contest. There was a condition, however." Akashi paused. "She wanted me to act as her boyfriend for the next three months."

Kagami had to struggle to find his voice. "Did you accept?" Inside, his heartbeat sped up, erratically, suddenly.

"I'm considering it," Akashi said. "To be perfectly honest, I had some inkling that this situation would arise. Ichihara-san also participated in last year's cooking contest, and the year before as well. On both occasions I had a strong sense that she was not performing at her best. Our club is a prestigious one within Rakuzan, and it has previously occurred to me that she might have her own reasons for wanting to spend time with the basketball team. I didn't realise that I was her object until yesterday."

"I see," Kagami said.

"You're sounding surprised," Akashi said. "For the record I get confessed to on a regular basis, although this is the first time someone has had the temerity to coerce me into a response."

"I know you're popular." Kagami felt a little annoyed now. Akashi was so..._calm_, so completely accepting of the fact that this girl had liked him, that she'd probably liked him for years, even though she'd probably waited. And hoped. And...nothing, because it was Akashi, and being in love with him was largely like beating one's head against a brick wall. Kagami would know.

"Winning the contest may be more complicated than I anticipated if I anger her," Akashi continued, oblivious to the changes going on in Kagami's emotional state. "The arrangement would be temporary, and my father probably wouldn't object to a young lady of her ilk."

"Turn her down."

Akashi stared at Kagami as if he'd temporarily grown a second head. "On what grounds?"

"Because you don't like her."

"I thought it was patently clear that this arrangement would have nothing to do with any affection on my part."

"And because I love you."

The words had slipped out during the split-second of courage Kagami summoned; now that the moment was over, he found himself completely tongue-tied.

He said: "It's okay if you don't feel the same way, I just..." He trailed off and stared down at his lap.

"How long has this been going on?" asked Akashi. He sounded frighteningly calm until Kagami glanced at the screen and saw that Akashi's face had gone completely blank and still.

"Since the last Interhigh," he admitted.

"More than nine months."

"Yeah."

"Thank you for telling me, Taiga," Akashi spoke, and this time he did sound strained. "I...need to work out a strategy for winning this cooking contest. And I need to think. So we'll talk later."

Kagami blinked. "Huh?"

But Akashi had already reached out and terminated the Skype call.

#

Kagami didn't sleep that night.

Thursday he slept through all of his classes. In fourth period he was awoken by an angry mathematics teacher shaking his arm, but the moment she saw his face her anger turned to concern instead, and he was sent to the infirmary.

Kuroko followed him there. "Would you like something to drink, Kagami-kun?" he asked, already filling a cup from the water dispenser.

Kagami drank the cool liquid down gratefully; he'd skipped breakfast and hadn't bothered drinking anything since. "Thanks."

"There haven't been any issues at basketball club, and you told me the other day that Himuro-kun is doing well," Kuroko said. "So I assume that the problem is Akashi-kun?"

Kagami leaned back in the infirmary bed and shut his eyes. "He was talking about maybe dating this girl at this school. Not even someone he _liked_."

"I'm sorry," Kuroko said.

"So I confessed. Well, I kinda blurted it out."

"What happened then?"

"He hung up, saying he had to focus on winning the contest first."

"That rather sounds like Akashi-kun."

Kagami opened his eyes. "Yeah, I know." It wasn't as if he hadn't known what a jerk Akashi could be, all along. It was just...Kagami wanted to be with him. That was all.

Kuroko sighed. "I'll give Akashi-kun a call."

"You don't have to do that," Kagami protested.

"Who said it's for your sake?" Kuroko smiled at Kagami. "It's Akashi-kun's health that I'm looking out for. If things go badly between the two of you, there are several people who will want his head on a chopping block. Himuro-kun, for starters. But also Aomine-kun and Midorima-kun and myself."

It was an odd and touching thing, having friends who looked out for you. To Kagami that was almost a stranger thing than being in love with Akashi Seijuurou.

Then the finer details of Kuroko's words registered. "Wait, _Midorima_?"

"Well," Kuroko paused delicately, "I don't think Midorima-kun needs much reason to want Akashi-kun's head on a chopping block."

#

There was no word from Akashi for the next few days. It was the first time in months Kagami had gone this long without Akashi being in touch.

He didn't sleep much Thursday or Friday night either. Saturday there was no club practice, so he slept in, and woke up to text messages from Aomine, Midorima, Kise, and Furihata.

Aomine: _Wanna go 1-on-1 tomorrow AM? Will let u know place and time._

Midorima: _The idiot Skyped me yesterday. I have yelled at him. Effects of this conversation remain to be seen. PS. When I say idiot I am referring to Akashi, not (for once) to yourself. _

Kise: _I owe Kurokocchi a six month supply of milkshakes. Honestly, Kagamicchi, I thought you were going to make it all the way back to America without confessing._

Furihata: _Heard from Kuroko that you're not feel well. Get better soon, okay? Don't forget prelims are coming up next week._.

Briefly, Kagami wondered exactly how many people out there were gossiping about his non-existent love life and exactly _what_ they were saying, but for the most part he didn't really care. Mostly it was good having people who cared about him besides Alex and Tatsuya.

Finally in the afternoon, Akashi emailed. _I'm on the Shinkansen. Should be at your place in an hour._

It was the longest hour of Kagami's life.

Akashi knocked on his door at twenty-three minutes past four. Kagami opened it and stared down at Akashi, who was looking a little weary, but still perfectly groomed in a blue oxford shirt and taupe wool pants. He wasn't carrying any luggage this time.

"Hi," Kagami said, stepping aside to let Akashi in.

"Thank you." Akashi sat on the couch. Kagami dithered, then chose to sit down on the floor, about a meter away.

"My apologies for the delay," Akashi began, finally, after they'd looked at each other in silence for a little while. "The contest was this morning, and I didn't have time or focus to think about anything else until it was over."

"Did you win?"

"We did," said Akashi. "It wasn't done gracefully, or in the ideal manner; I had to call in some favours, and the Rakuzan vice-principal will probably never forgive me after what I've revealed I know about him. But there wasn't much else to be done, since I burned one of the soufflés I was making."

"You burned a soufflé."

"I haven't been at my best this week." Akashi pressed his lips together in a tight line. "I did have time to talk to Shintarou, and Tetsuya called me last night."

"Okay."

"Taiga, this isn't easy for me." Then, in an irritated tone: "Oh look, I don't even know why I'm attempting to talk to you, given your baseline level of verbal communication."

And in the next moment Akashi had moved in one swift movement to the floor, to kneeling in front of Kagami.

"I've never done this before," Akashi said, "so there if are complications along the way..." Without finishing his sentence he reached out and pulled Kagami's head towards him, so that their mouths met.

Between the fumbling and Kagami's surprise and their initial failure to coordinate, they eventually ended up flat on the floor, with Akashi half on top of Kagami. Akashi was a little breathless, his lips wet.

Kagami found his voice. "Does this mean-"

"Yes," Akashi tried to avoid meeting Kagami's eyes, which considering the position they were in just had the net effect of making him look coy.

"You turned her down."

"Haven't I said that already?"

"Actually you didn't," Kagami said.

Lying on the floor was uncomfortable so they eventually got up and moved to the couch, still sitting shoulder to shoulder, and it was only then that Kagami noticed how embarrassed Akashi was, his cheeks tinged slightly pink.

"I love you," Kagami said, which only made Akashi flush more.

"You've already told me that."

"And you-"

"I'm going to Oxford next year." Akashi said. "My father and I decided last week. If you're okay with that, then-"

"Okay with what?"

"Christmas and summer vacation, and three years of Skype," Akashi looked up at Kagami. "If you can accept that-?"

"Are you saying you'll be my boyfriend?"

"No, I'm asking you to be mine. Since I don't recall your ever telling me what you wanted from me."

"I didn't think—"

"That I would give it? Yes, I had extensive phone conversations with Shintarou and Tetsuya about my poor communication skills and my mixed signals and my complete lack of responsibility when it came to your feelings," said Akashi, looking disgruntled. "I'd rather have heard it from _you_."

"I want to be with you," Kagami said quietly. "Long-distance is fine."

"Very well," Akashi gave Kagami a small, startlingly vulnerable smile. "Now I'm going to go home and get my things, since I'm staying here for the night."

"You're going back to Kyoto?"

"The Tokyo family mansion, obviously. I didn't bring anything to your apartment since I wasn't sure," Akashi hesitated, "whether I'd be welcome here tonight."

"You have a _home_ in Tokyo?" As far as Kagami knew, Akashi slept at Kagami's apartment every time he visited Tokyo.

"Well, yes, that that was apparently one of my mixed signals, according to Tetsuya, despite my insistence that my paternal great-aunt is reason enough for me to never stay at the main home, ever." Akashi shifted uncomfortably. "I think this conversation was doing better when we were kissing. That's a suggestion, by the way."

Kagami took the hint.

#

Touou Gakuen defeated Seirin in the quarterfinals of that summer's Interhigh. Kagami walked back to his apartment that evening, his legs leaden. Losing never got any easier, no matter how many times or how often it happened.

To his surprise, the lights were on as he entered the building.

Midorima opened the front door. "Come on in," he said, "Dinner's almost ready."

Kagami went into the kitchen and found Takao and Akashi in front of the stoves, grilling burger patties.

"I used the key to the front door you gave me," Akashi said. "Would you prefer to assemble your own meal, or shall I have Shintarou serve the food?"

Kagami gazed at Akashi, standing there, calm and present and beautiful, and for one moment entirely, forgot he'd just lost a game.

"Anything will be fine," he said.

**END, THE BRILLIANCY OF ERROR**


End file.
